


a switchblade is my preferred weapon

by badacts



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 48
Words: 150,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badacts/pseuds/badacts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Foxes take on an injured Kevin Day, and get a Raven-trained backliner with a point to prove into the bargain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The archive warnings are there for a reason, but individual chapter warnings are in the notes!
> 
> A mix for this fic by wolfsbanepunch can be found [here](http://wolfsbanepunch.tumblr.com/post/151400608810/you-might-think-youre-dangerous-but-not-like-i) and [here](http://wolfsbanepunch.tumblr.com/post/151400622725/boys-with-pretty-faces-and-dagger-sharp-smiles) <3
> 
> First up, Wymack and the beginning:

When Wymack pulled in to the parking lot of the Foxhole Court on Wednesday morning, he wasn’t the first one there. He was, however, the only one who was actually meant to be there, and in the state of South Carolina, for that matter.

“What do you want?” he asked, because politeness was for other people, especially when it came to the kind with numbers tattooed on their faces. This one was emblazoned with a three, though it was a little hard to make out under the lurid bruising.

“Heard this is the place to go if you’re a broken thing,” the kid said. His mouth had a savage curve to it, not at all obscured by the split in it. He looked like a broken thing, sounded like he’d spent some time in pain pretty recently, but his expression was all Raven arrogance. Kevin did at least have a touch of softness in his eyes – this kid looked like he’d had it beaten out of him. Wymack’s brain said once, _too young_ , before he shut it down.

“Get up,” Wymack replied. He didn’t offer a hand, knowing it’d probably get bitten off, instead just watching the kid lever himself off of the concrete. He was in pain, that much was obvious, but he could move even if his shoulders stayed a little curved over against it. “Most people would pick a hospital, not my court.”

“I’m not most people,” the kid replied through his teeth.

“You gonna tell me who you are, then?”

The kid looked up at him. Wymack had been acclimatised to tiny people after a year of the Minyard twins; this one only had a few inches of height on them but a lot less mass on a lean runner’s frame. His expression was familiar in its deadness, every bit of emotion walled off so his eyes were like glass. There was something there though – something evaluating, if nothing else.

Eventually he said, “My name is Nathaniel Wesninski.”

“Well, Nathaniel Wesninski,” Wymack said, because he would have hated to start surprising himself in his old age, “You’d better come in.”

Nathaniel Wesninski did come in, sitting where Wymack put him in the lounge and nodding seriously when Wymack told him to stay there. Wymack wasn’t worried about leaving him to his own devices, not really, but he hurried into his office anyway.

Kevin picked up on the fifth ring with a bleary, “Coach?”

“You and that little psycho better be at the court in ten minutes or I’m going to come down there and drag you here,” Wymack bluntly informed him.

“Am I – am I late?” he asked, because Kevin was useless in the morning. However, the implication that he was late for practice was probably the quickest way to get his brain engaged anyway. It was barely five-thirty, and practice wasn’t due to start for a while yet, which was either lucky on Wymack’s part or well-planned on Nathaniel’s.

“Maybe, it depends. Does the name Wesninski mean anything to you?”

There was a long silence at the other end, though Wymack could hear the increase in Kevin’s breathing that was pure panic.

He whispered, “Nathan?”

Wymack frowned. “He said it was Nathaniel.”

There was an explosive gust of air from the other end of the line, and the sound of rustling as Kevin levered himself out of bed.

“ _Nathaniel,_ ” Kevin said, as if to himself, and then, “I’m coming,” right before he hung up on Wymack.

Nathaniel was still sitting stock-still where Wymack left him when he came back, his eyes flickering from half-closed to wide and alert in the split second that Wymack came through the door. It was probably a lapse, he thought, a show of weakness that he wasn’t supposed to see.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Kevin Day scatter that fast,” Wymack observed, leaning up against the doorframe.

“Probably because you were the one he was running to, last time,” Nathaniel replied with a bored little shrug. His attempt at casual missed the mark a little, subtle though it is.

“Are you about to set him to running again?”

“Is my name Moriyama?”

“No. And apparently it isn’t Nathan, either,” Wymack prodded a little more firmly. He didn’t like the look he got at that, or the way Nathaniel touched a hand to his side like he definitely, definitely had a weapon hidden under his shirt. Exposure to Andrew had made Wymack intimately familiar with that kind of economical motion of reaching for a knife.

“You can keep that to yourself,” Wymack warned him with a very pointed look. Nathaniel edged him a smile.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answered, levering himself to his feet again. The sounds that he’d apparently heard reach Wymack’s ears a second later: the rattle of rapid footsteps up the stairs.

Andrew came through the doorway first, grin firmly fixed in place. His brother and cousin may have not been very good at determining when Andrew was faking taking his medication and when he actually was, but Wymack was, and he could tell that Andrew was drugged to the gills. He wouldn’t take that chance – Andrew on his drugs might care less, but he was also a faster, fiercer thing with a promise to keep to Kevin Day.

Kevin himself was pallid and stayed at Andrew’s back, though he looked like he was torn about that. Nathaniel turned to face the two of them, any pain suddenly very well hidden in his loose fighter’s stance. Wymack felt a little like he was suddenly about to be the host of a dogfight.

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment. They were nothing alike, bar the tattoos: Kevin was tall and all his mother, dark haired and attractive with his deep green eyes, strikingly dark against this auburn-haired scrap of youth. Kevin eventually said, “Where is Jean?”

For the first time, Nathaniel’s expression cracked from its cool façade. What was underneath reminded Wymack a little of a sober Andrew, the few glimpses he’d gotten. Nathaniel snarled, “ _Shut up_.”

His tone was fierce enough that Andrew tensed visibly, his smile flattening a little. It wasn’t a threat though, not really. It sounded like it hurt on the way out for a start.

“Why are you here?” Kevin rapped out.

“Same reason you are,” Nathaniel replied. “Well, maybe not _quite_ the same reason. But I’m not here for you.”

“Nathaniel, Riko – ” Kevin started, and then, “They’ll kill you. They _own_ you.”

Nathaniel shrugged his narrow shoulders. It was something of a tell. “They can try.”

“It looks like they already did,” Andrew drawled out. He was closer to Nathaniel than he had been before, which Nathaniel had clearly noticed by the way his weight shifted. “Did Riko do that to you himself, or did he pay someone to?”

“Riko isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty,” Nathaniel replied. His hands stayed politely at his sides, which was more than Wymack could say for Andrew, who was playing with the edge of his left armband with his fingers. “But you already knew that.”

Wymack cleared his throat, interrupting their little staring match. “To be honest, I’m more interested to hear about who you are than hear you talk about Riko Moriyama.”

“He’s a Raven,” Kevin answered after a moment of deliberation. “We grew up together – he’s a backliner.”

“So how have I never heard of him before, if he’s a Raven?”

“Because I’m only meant to be starting my freshman year this year. I’ve lived in the Raven’s Nest for the last five years, since my father sold me to the Moriyamas,” Nathaniel provided.

Andrew laughed. “So you picked now to get tired of your cage? Or did it take you all that time to grow a spine? Either way, that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“I never claimed it was a coincidence. I’m an athlete, and an investment. I’m not willing to become worthless just because Riko can’t control his temper. I didn’t want to be next,” he explained with a pointed look at Kevin. “I went to Kengo Moriyama and told him that I’d give their branch most of my earnings for my competitive career as long as they let me choose who I played for. Including college. I’m not a Raven, and I never will be.”

“That’s-” Kevin said, and then stopped. He looked completely taken aback.

“So you’re another obsessive. I’m starting to see why you’re here after all,” Andrew commented. “The spine, though – you didn’t learn that from Kevin.”

"What would you know? It’s not that hard to have a spine when you don’t give a fuck,” Nathaniel snarled again, abruptly defensive. It was kind of heart-warming, though that only may have been because Wymack was getting used to hearing people complain about every single aspect of Kevin’s personality.

“Riko wouldn’t just let you go,” Kevin blurted out, heading off what was most likely about to be something brutally honest from Andrew’s mouth. Not that Kevin probably realised that seeing as he was still a large step behind the conversation.

“He didn’t have a choice. Do you really think he’d defy his father like that?” Nathaniel challenged.

“Did he specify that Riko let you leave in one piece, or was that artistic licence?” Andrew asked.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” Nathaniel snapped. That time his fingers did twitch a little at his sides.

“I understand that I would have taken off both of his hands if he’d put them on me,” Andrew said.

Nathaniel’s glance was bladed and rather more knowing than anyone would like. “Would you, though?” It drew blood, too – Andrew laughed, because that was the only response he was capable of right then. It felt like two dogs circling again, all snarling and posturing.

“Why the Foxes?” Wymack interrupted. Nathaniel shot him a look that said he thought Wymack knew the answer to that particular question. He wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“I couldn’t think of another coach stupid enough to take me,” he said, which wasn’t polite but was mostly true, even though what he actually meant was, _where else could I belong?_ He spread his hands a little to indicate his entire self, from his bruised face to his feet, and all of the accompanying baggage.

“Maybe the Trojans need another backliner,” Andrew said meditatively, back to his usual smiling calm like Nathaniel hadn’t scored at least one hit.

“I – he should stay,” Kevin said to Wymack, cutting them both off again. His look was pleading underneath the imperative, which was familiar to Wymack because it was the exact same expression Kevin had worn when he’d asked Wymack to help him escape from the Ravens.

Andrew didn’t say anything. Wymack wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t object, or if he was thinking that it’d be easier to kill Nathaniel if he stayed.

“Well, that’s good, but I have a few more questions before we get to that part,” Wymack said. “I took Kevin on because the team agreed that they could deal with whatever Riko and the Ravens could throw at them, but they didn’t agree to the other branch of the Moriyamas. How much trouble are you going to make for my team?”

“Kengo will keep his word, but I can’t promise that Riko won’t try to get around him to make my life difficult,” Nathaniel admitted.

“And your father,” Kevin started. Nathaniel shot him a glare so hard Wymack was impressed that Kevin didn’t burst into flame where he stood.

“And your father, who apparently has an interest in child slavery,” Wymack commented. He had a feeling there was rather more to it than that, but it sounded like it was more of a personal problem. He had a rule about getting involved with those for a reason.

“He’s in prison. He won’t be a problem,” Nathaniel said, still narrow-eyed. “So really I’m not all that different from the rest of your recruits. Also, I heard you have a space on your line-up.”

“Yes – for a striker. Which _apparently_ you aren’t.”

“I could be a striker. Are you really going to say no?”

It was one hell of a reach, but Wymack could see why. The kid said that because he knew what all of them did – the Foxes were a man down and were struggling anyway. They couldn’t afford to say no to a player of Nathaniel’s presumed quality.

“I think that this is another decision that requires the consideration of the entire team,” Wymack said, with perfect timing seeing as the entire rest of the team was clattering up the hall as he spoke.

Nicky was the first one through the door, talking as usual. “Andrew, you could have waited for us, what the-”

He ground to a halt when he realised that there was a stranger in the room, causing a pile-up in the doorway that would have been comical if it had been anyone else at any other time. Aaron pushed Nicky forward with a scowl on his face so the rest of them could get in, looking from Andrew to Wymack to Nathaniel with blatant distrust.

Dan forced her way past the mob of them, and her expression was at least business-like rather than openly aggressive. “Coach, what’s going on?”

“Foxes, this is Nathaniel Wesninski,” Wymack said, indicating the person in question with a wave of his hand.

“Neil,” Nathaniel interrupted, apparently before thinking. He paused, his eyes flicking between all of the unfamiliar faces before settling back on Kevin. “Neil is fine.”

Wymack continued more slowly, “Neil wants to join the line, but there are a few complications.”

Dan let out a sigh. “When isn’t there?”


	2. Chapter 2

The eventual consensus they came to was that they needed to see Neil in action on the court, but Wymack was staunchly unwilling to put him on without Abby’s approval. Dan could understand that – Neil was clearly stoic but just as clearly stiff and sore. When he’d protested being made to wait with the excuse that he’d trained with the Ravens in worse condition, Wymack had said in his most brutally unimpressed tone that they didn’t play injured athletes on the Foxhole Court because he didn’t like cleaning blood off the floor.

Though they were all back to living in the Tower, Wymack had insisted that Neil stay with him until their plans were finalised. He didn’t need to make any pointed comments for Dan to know that was for Kevin’s benefit, and for Andrew’s protective instincts. She had seen the tableau they’d walked in on for a start.

Renee said, ever practical, “We may have to come up with a way to hide him until the start of the season, if we don’t want a repeat of last year.”

Because one Raven import had made enough trouble for the Foxes, she meant. Dan shuddered to think what this was going to bring down on them, even if this one wasn’t famous like Kevin Day. The fans were already in uproar over Edgar Allen’s district shift without the Foxes debuting another player with a brand on his face.

“He’s, um, he’s not exactly subtle-looking,” Nicky attempted with his usual level of sensitivity.

Allison said, “He’s cute,” which was more on the money. Neil looked back at them, unimpressed. He was attractive in a pale, angular way, coltish but striking with his hair tumbling over his forehead. Without gratuitous use of hair dye and perhaps tattoo removal, he was far from the kind of average appearance the eye just passed over.

“Why don’t we save that for later,” Dan interjected, which earned her a measured glance from Neil and an amused one from Matt. “All of it, actually. It doesn’t mean anything until we see him on the court.”

“Good idea,” Wymack said approvingly, and then sent them off to change out for practice like nothing unusual was happening. They conducted their normal drills under the silent but heavy gaze of Neil from his place on the bench, all of Kevin’s focus with none of his lashing tongue. Kevin himself played harder than usual at the cost of his hard-won right-handed finesse, and things descended into fist fighting while Andrew was absent for his usual appointment with Betsy. Dan snapped at Kevin more than once to hold himself back before finally throwing aside tact and telling him to get a grip.

Predictably, things hadn’t improved from there.

They came off the court steaming again, for the third day in a row. Dan was used to the struggle inherent in pulling the Foxes back together during their first week of summer practices, but every year she hoped that this would be the one where she’d be pleasantly surprised. She held Matt’s hand on the way out to the car and resigned herself to maybe having an easier time of it next year, because this year obviously wasn’t going to be it.

Wymack shoved Neil in his car with the stated purpose of getting Abby to check him out, and the monsters peeled off in silence to drive back with Andrew. Dan felt herself about to sigh, paused, and then let it out seeing as the other upperclassmen were the only ones around her. Renee’s answering smile was understanding, and Allison bumped shoulders with her before climbing into Matt’s truck.

“Do you think this is going to be a problem?” Matt asked her when they were on the road back, just the two of them in the cab.

“We’re almost certainly going to end up with two Ravens on the team, if Andrew doesn’t murder this one, and we’re going to have to pit them both against their old team this autumn,” Dan said with a shrug, “So yes, it’s going to be a problem. I should probably kiss the season goodbye now.”

Matt chuckled and squeezed her thigh. “Why don’t you save that for later, too. You never know – maybe a freshman defensive player learning to play as a striker is exactly what we need this season.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Dan quipped, though she couldn’t hold back a little smile.

Wymack texted her to tell her that afternoon that Abby had given Neil a bill of health clean enough to join their practice tomorrow morning, though Dan suspected Abby would have added some provisos as well. When she was lying in bed that night listening to Allison shifting in her sleep and Renee’s wheezy little inhales, she went through best and worst case scenarios for tomorrow and for the season itself.

Worst was of course that Neil would somehow make Kevin return to the Ravens, taking the Foxes below the minimum headcount and imploding their season completely. Or maybe that Andrew would kill Neil and get caught, with the same result – Dan sometimes had a better imagination than her friends would give her credit for. She didn’t let herself think too much about possible best options – she was also a pragmatist, and the last few years had taught her never to get ahead of herself except when it came to imagining potential fallout.

As a result, her alarm seemed to go off even earlier than usual. She and the others stumbled over the monsters on the way down to the parking lot – the cousins looked typically unbothered, from Nicky’s good-natured cheer to Andrew’s wide smile, but Kevin looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night. He met Dan’s eyes for a second before Andrew shoved him in the middle of the back to get him moving, but Dan didn’t need more than that to make out the mingled hope and fear on his face.

Wymack and Neil were already waiting for them at the court sorting through spare armour, with a pinched-looking Abby in attendance. Wymack didn’t give them any time to mess around, ushering the rest of them straight out to do warm up laps. When Dan cast him a look and pointed at Neil, he shrugged and said, “He already ran some.”

With the rest of them changed out and armoured up, Neil stuck out like a small mostly-black-clad thumb against their orange and white practice gear. He stretched as easily as the rest of them though, looking much more relaxed than he had the morning before.

“Alright,” Wymack said at last, clapping his hands. “Drills and then we’ll play some scrimmage. Dan, you’re the boss. Get out there.”

“Be careful,” Abby warned, her eyes on Neil. He was pretending very unconvincingly to not notice the attention that she and everyone else was paying to him, twisting his borrowed racquet in his hands while he looked through the glass wall to the stands.

That pretending turned into the real deal soon enough. Though he clearly wasn’t pushing himself, Neil ran through the drills with a single-minded focus to match Kevin’s, neat and easy and breath-takingly efficient. Renee was in goal for them and he didn’t wear himself against her, but he slipped plenty of balls past her even without appearing to try too hard. Andrew watched from off to the side of the goal, his expression hidden under his helmet. Dan didn’t trust his casual stance for even a second.

Wymack hammered on the door to signal Dan, who said, “Scrimmage. Matt, you’re defence with Neil, and Renee in goal. Seth and Kevin as strikers. The rest of you, get out.”

Dan took her place shoulder-to-shoulder with Wymack, leaving Allison with the rest of the monsters on the bench near Abby while the Foxes still on court squared up. Seth and Neil were against one another, and as Dan watched Seth sneered something to the younger man that got absolutely no reaction. That did nothing to decrease the foul look on Seth’s face – Dan had already had to listen to him bitch about Neil last night, and she had a feeling that she would get a repeat of it soon enough.

“You know what you said about blood on the court?” Dan remarked.

“Yeah, I know,” Wymack replied with a scowl, right before he rapped once on the door to signal a start to play.

It was fascinating to watch. Nathaniel was tiny next to Matt, but he more than made up for his lack of size with speed and agility. He was blisteringly quick, always in Seth’s face, interfering with his stick and nearly tripping him but somehow staying pretty much within the rules. His stick-handling was good, but even within the first few minutes he was already giving their own backliners a masterclass in defensive footwork.

“Damn,” Dan heard Nicky say, full of admiration.

“Seems a waste, putting someone that fast in defence,” Dan remarked. Watching Matt rise to the occasion while Seth and Kevin both fought against the pair of them made something like excitement clutch her belly. Kevin finally managed to get around Matt to attempt a shot on goal, only to have Neil foul his shot on an angle precise enough that it hit Renee’s raised net with her barely needing to move.

Wymack hummed mildly under his breath. After watching the strikers struggle for a while with limited success, he smacked at the court door to stop play again.

“Aaron, Andrew, you’re up. Send Seth and Renee off,” he said. Andrew, who had been slumped across the bench with his helmet dumped next to him, sighed loudly and dragged himself to his feet. Seth came out visibly furious, stalking down the bench so none of them could talk to him but at least not shouldering either of the twins on his way past, for once. Dan thought uncharitably that even he knew when to pick his battles some times.

Out on court they were taking their places again now that the door was closed, Kevin still against Matt and Neil against Aaron. When they were signalled to start it was immediately obvious how Kevin and Neil had played together like this before – even with Kevin right-handed, Neil seemed to have no trouble predicting his movements. It was a little like watching a tiny display of Raven ferocity right their on their own court.

Dan’s comment about Neil’s speed came back to her as he opened up to make a space for himself – he was supremely quick, driving the others faster just to keep up with him. Aaron was good and Matt was even better, but they couldn’t keep pace with that combination of impossible, precise passes and pure speed.

“Fast,” she repeated, just to hear Wymack hum again, then more quietly, “I already know you’re going to sign him.”

Wymack flicked her a glance. “What makes you say that?”

“I know you. You’re a sucker for a sob story,” she replied, with perhaps a little more teasing and less respect than she might otherwise afford her coach. It wasn’t like it wasn’t a joke they always made, or like it wasn’t at least a little true, even though what she really meant was that Neil was the kind of person Wymack would love to give another chance. Wymack was already looking back to the court, but the corner of his mouth had quirked up.

“If I sign him, you’re going to have to make it work,” he reminded her. She hummed back to him, watching Matt steal the ball from Kevin only for Kevin to check him and take it back.

“I think I might be able to make it happen,” she said with only a little bravado, feeling that burn of excitement again.

Dan wasn’t surprised to see Andrew not bothering to stop the balls that made it to goal. He seemed to be watching, though he could just be staring into the middle distance too. Dan doubted it – she thought he was evaluating. He did let a lot of goals in, though even Kevin didn’t bother to yell at him over it, too busy watching Neil and outsmarting their backliners.

That didn’t last, though. Neil zipped between Matt and Aaron again, too close to the goal – Andrew, who had seconds before been leaning against his planted racquet, moved to body-check him hard enough that Dan winced. He went down, unsurprisingly, making Abby let out a muted gasp.

“I’m sure he’s had that before,” Allison remarked, shrugging her indifference from where she’d stepped up next to Dan to get a closer look.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw how many stitches he has under his shirt,” Abby replied, and then, “What’s – Andrew!”

Dan caught her elbow to stop her making for the door, looking to Renee instead. She was already on the move, helmet tucked under her arm, because Andrew had dropped his racquet to kneel down over Neil where he’d collapsed on the ground, and Dan doubted it was for a reason other than bodily harm.

“No,” Wymack said, sounding – not relaxed, because his tone was an unrelenting command, but not concerned either. Dan couldn’t say the same for herself, jokes about bleeding aside; this was Andrew, which automatically meant that it was serious.

They stood stock still, watching it play out – Dan cursed the fact that she wasn’t on the court, knowing that Aaron and Kevin wouldn’t do anything to stop Andrew, and that Matt would probably just get hurt trying. Even Seth had put a pause on sulking to watch.

Andrew reached down and touched a particular spot at Neil’s side over his armour, pointedly. At the same time Neil’s hand shot out and gripped around Andrew’s other forearm, right where Dan knew Andrew wore a knife. They stayed frozen like that for a long moment, maybe talking or maybe silent, before Andrew’s hand lifted. Neil let go instantly, and Andrew pulled himself up, picked up his racquet, and returned to his goal.

Neil stayed flat out for a second before pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his own racquet from where it’d fallen. He walked back up the court via where Kevin was still frozen in place and said something to him, popping his half-extended racquet with his own to steal the ball.

Then, in one smooth motion, he turned and fired it directly at the goal. Andrew, who’d been watching him walk away, reached up almost casually and smashed the ball back down the court. It bounced off the far wall inside the empty away goal.

“What the fuck,” Dan heard herself say a little blankly.

Usually the only person smiling after a confrontation with Andrew was Andrew, but Neil Wesninski was unmistakeably grinning under his helmet.

“Hm,” Wymack said again, uncrossing his arms to unlock and open the door. “Neil, Matt, get off the court. Nicky, Seth, you’re back on.”

Matt jogged off first, Neil moving more slowly behind him. When he drew in line with them, Dan hissed, “What were they saying?”

“Nothing,” Matt muttered back, sweeping past her so Neil could make it through the door. He’d taken off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, and he’d lost his smile at some point as well. He’d replaced it with passivity, a casual frown and a level gaze.

“What do you think?” he asked, straight to the point. Dan had to admire that about him.

“We both already know you can play,” Wymack answered, arms crossed again. “It’s the dynamic I’m worried about. Your attitude, for a start.”

“Well, I’ve always had a problem with that,” Neil replied, all mild-mannered charm that Dan was beginning to suspect was a front.

“That little display – not reassuring.” Wymack pointed to the court.

“I can handle them. If you’re worried that they can’t handle me, there isn’t much I can do to reassure you about that,” Neil said with a broad shrug. He looked to Dan for the first time, which was when it occurred to her that his last coach and captain had been Moriyamas, the same ones who had driven both him and Kevin here. Dan couldn’t imagine any way in which she and Wymack were comparable to Riko and Tetsuji, but she found herself wondering how they measured up all the same.

“I think we’ll be able to handle you just fine,” she found herself saying, which was how they ended the day with a new striker sub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Neil moves into Fox Tower.


	3. Chapter 3

Moving into Fox Tower turned out to be not very different from moving into the Ravens' Nest – both had involved death threats, Kevin Day, and knives.

He’d known going in that proving to the Foxes that he wasn’t a threat was going to be difficult. He had banked on Kevin’s support and gotten it, but he hadn’t expected it from their hard-eyed captain, nor the enthusiasm of Boyd or Hemmick. He’d always thought of the Foxes as caring more for each other than for winning games, but he was starting to wonder if either he was wrong or if the two concepts could coexist more easily than the Ravens had taught him.

Boyd – Matt – ushered him into the suite they’d be sharing with a friendly grin. He seemed like a good-natured type, and he was unmistakeably the strongest player on the line at the moment. Seth didn’t look up from his phone as Neil was shown around, for which Neil was a little grateful, seeing as Seth was certainly not the good-natured type. There was a fight there waiting for Neil if he stepped wrong, and he was trying to appear to be the kind of man who didn’t make trouble for himself even if Andrew Minyard was intent on making that impossible for him.

Neil kept flashing back to the vivid sense memory of Andrew crouched over him, his fingers unerringly placed on the knife that Neil wore against his side while Neil clutched at his wrist. Andrew hadn’t said anything because he hadn’t needed to – the implied _you might think you’re dangerous, but not like I am_  came through loud and clear. 

Violence like that was as familiar to Neil as his own name. The recognition in Andrew’s eyes, the sensation of being seen, was much more frightening. Andrew had been the one to draw first blood in their back-and-forth, but Neil had already lost his grip on who was winning.

That probably wasn’t a very good sign for him. He was trying not to think about that – as good as he was at starting fights, Neil had never ended one.

“Do you have another bag?” Matt asked, interrupting Neil’s train of thought. Neil had his lone duffel slung over his shoulder, small and lonely compared to the clutter of belongings of the other two men.

“No,” he said, and didn’t elaborate despite Matt’s dubious look. He hadn’t had much of an opportunity to pack anyway, but seeing as most of his clothes were Raven black and red he’d left them behind. Neil had never been so glad to not be particularly attached to his material possessions.

“Okay,” Matt accepted without questioning him further, which Neil was willing to bet was a trait common to the Foxes. “I’ll leave you to get settled. We’ll go and get dinner with the girls later if that sounds good?”

"Yeah, okay,” Neil replied. Once Matt had vacated the room, Neil stuffed his clothes into the drawers of the unoccupied dresser. Matt had helpfully shut the door behind him, so Neil leaned against the dresser and looked at his phone.

No texts. Unsurprising, but Neil still felt a sick churn in his gut even so. It wasn’t that he thought Jean should want to talk to him, but he couldn’t shake his fear that he might be dead now that Neil had taken his eyes off of him.

Jean couldn’t have the same sway over the Moriyamas as Neil himself did thanks to his last name, small though it really was. More than that, Jean had been too afraid to try to leave the Ravens behind. That didn’t mean that Neil was going to give up on making sure that he, too, got his freedom, though. It probably made him stupid, but Neil had never claimed to be smart.

The feeling of being alone clutched at him for a long moment before he pushed it aside. It was, he thought, at least better than spending more time in Wymack’s apartment. Neil trusted his new coach as far as he could, but he thought that Wymack was just as aware as Neil was how far that wasn’t.

He sighed out a long breath, resigning himself. This, he hoped, would be better. Not least because short of Andrew, he didn’t think the other Foxes wanted to hurt him. Or if they did, at least they wouldn’t take as much enjoyment out of it.

Then, because melancholy had never done him any good, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans, patted himself to make sure he had his wallet, and walked briskly out of the suite. He needed sheets and towels, at least, as well as a few extra changes of clothes. For everything you could say about them, the Ravens had never been stingy with money, so Neil had enough squirreled away for the essentials. Matt looked vaguely concerned until Neil assured him he’d be back in time for dinner later.

He wasn’t lying, either. With the dining halls closed for summer he and the upperclassmen went out to one of the nearby diners instead. Neil was quiet throughout, but he took the opportunity to observe this half of his new team. The men he’d already started to make opinions of, but the girls were unfamiliar. Dan was completely different from on the court, relaxed and teasing. Everything Neil had ever heard of her had been disparaging, but Neil liked her anyway – he didn’t think he had ever met someone so ruthlessly determined in his life. Even Kevin almost looked relaxed in comparison, though Dan covered hers better than Kevin ever had.

Allison seemed in many ways out of place amongst the Foxes, like a movie star who had been suddenly deposited in their midst, but that impression only lasted until she opened her mouth. She was blunt and honest, which Neil could appreciate. He could have done without having to sidestep the questions she threw at him though. They were all obviously curious about him, for all they didn’t pry, but Allison’s curiosity was much more difficult to ignore.

Renee, with her sweet smile and subtly knife-scarred hands, was something else entirely. He couldn’t afford to trust her, not until he peeled back her veneer a little. She was at once alien and all too familiar to someone who had grown up as the son of the Butcher of Baltimore. She caught him watching her once during the course of the meal, meeting his gaze levelly with a little smile. He looked away first, feeling as though he had given something away.

They walked back together after, Dan and Matt hand in hand and all of the rest of them relaxed and quietly chatting amongst themselves. Neil used their distraction to get lost in his thoughts: he hadn’t yet managed to catch Kevin without his shadow, and it was getting frustrating. He couldn’t attribute all of that to necessity – more of it was out a need for understanding. Kevin knew what the Ravens were like, and he and Andrew were clearly inseparable. For the first time in five years Neil was alone, and he didn’t like it.

By pure chance, he managed to get his opportunity as they made it back to Fox Tower. Neil was lagging behind the others, and Kevin was mucking around with his phone outside the room he shared with the cousins. Seth said something to him that Kevin ignored completely, and Matt shoved Seth in the back to keep him moving before Seth said something that Kevin couldn’t ignore. Neil let them walk a little ahead while he reached into his pocket, glad for the diversion. They didn’t even notice he wasn’t with them when they went into the girl’s room and shut the door behind them.

Neil slid alongside Kevin in the hall, close enough that Kevin looked up automatically. It was the closest they’d been since the team had left for the banquet all those months ago, before they’d come back to Evermore without Kevin. Kevin looked exactly the same. Neil had a scar parallel to his collarbone to remind himself that Kevin had run and he’d spent months hating Kevin for leaving him behind. It was strange to look him in the face now and understand it.

After all, he’d just done the same thing.        

“Here,” he said in French, pushing Kayleigh Day’s letter against Kevin’s chest between them. “In case you were forgetting why you came.”

Kevin’s hand came up to grab the paper, catching against Neil’s fingers as he met Neil’s gaze. He had obviously recognised the letter instantly. They stood there for a too-long moment, toe to toe, before his eyes flickered over Neil’s shoulder.

“You’re a sneaky one,” Andrew murmured, nearly against the back of his neck, which was when Neil tensed at the familiar feel of a knife blade through his shirt. He dropped his hands to his sides so that Andrew could see that they were empty. He didn’t know where Andrew had come from – he walked too quietly for Neil to have heard him.

“You come by that paranoia honestly, or did someone teach it to you?” Neil asked, turning his head a little so he could see Andrew’s expression. He was smiling, which made the threat of the knife against his spine somehow more immediate. Neil had been threatened by a lot of people in his life, but few of them looked that happy to be doing so.

“You know what they say – it’s not really paranoia if you’re actually dealing with a lying little traitor,” Andrew replied with a shrug that Neil could feel.

Neil charitably didn’t say anything about Andrew’s use of the word ‘little’. “Kevin. Go away.”

Kevin looked between the two of them, back and forth, and then did as Neil asked.

Neil watched him go before turning right up against Andrew’s knife, feeling it rake against the cotton of his shirt until coming to rest at his belly when he stopped. This close, the few inches between their height was very apparent. Unfortunately Neil’s extra height didn’t lend him a feeling of security.

“You look like you don’t think I’m willing to use this,” Andrew said with a tiny press. The knife wasn’t sharp enough to slice his shirt through, which Neil – or Nathaniel – absently thought of as being stupid. He’d always been taught that there was no point carrying a blade that wasn’t properly sharpened.

“I know you are. I just don’t think I’ve given you a good enough reason yet,” Neil replied. His fingers were itching, but he thought that any kind of sudden grabbing would probably end in blood, all of it Neil’s.

“I noticed you didn’t protest being called a liar. Kevin calls you honest, but I think you’re hiding something. I’m not sure you’ve shaken off Riko’s grip like he believes you have,” Andrew said. “I think that you’re still his man, here to make trouble. And don’t think I didn’t notice how reticent you were about your father, whoever he might be. Shh, don’t talk. I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

Andrew reached up with his free hand and gripped the back of Neil’s neck hard enough to bruise, pulling his head down so they were directly face-to-face.

“You don’t look afraid enough yet,” Andrew said, looking straight into his eyes. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll fix that. This Friday, you’re going to come party with us in Columbia. Then we really might learn some really interesting things about each other.”

With the wall at his back and a knife-wielding psycho nearly pressed against his front, it occurred to Neil that he didn’t have a choice but to say yes. He might have been telling the truth, or almost all of it, but Andrew had no reason to believe him. If it took whatever was in Columbia to make that happen then he’d do it.

Neil wanted to stay. If that meant playing Russian Roulette with Andrew Minyard and truths about both of them that were better off kept silent, then he’d do that too.

“Fine,” he said at last, though it was through his teeth. Andrew’s grin grew even wider. The pressure of the knife disappeared finally; Neil didn’t watch it go. Andrew wheeled away to head down the hall, leaving Neil standing against the wall.

“Hey, Minyard,” Neil said before he could open the door to his suit, because Neil wasn’t the quiet type and was resigned to the fact of Andrew knowing that. “Truth for a truth – do you think Riko hasn’t done his research on you?”

If he’d been hoping to wipe that infuriating smile off of Andrew’s face, he failed. Andrew laughed instead. “Oh, Neil. I’m counting on it.”

With that he let himself into the room and slammed the door hard enough it echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Columbia.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I learned writing this chapter: South Carolina has some very relaxed laws about owning and carrying knives.
> 
> I’ve written in the endnotes pretty much what goes down in this part, so please consult them if you find the original chapter (Neil's first trip to Columbia) in TFC triggering. CW: Drug use/discussion of abuse.

By Friday, Neil was beginning to see the logic in the way Wymack and Dan let the Foxes go at each other, and not just because them doing it on the court under supervision was safer than them fighting anywhere else. They had started to establish a pecking order at last, with Dan firmly at the top and Neil a satellite somewhere on the outside.

Kevin had gone from considering silence to his usual brand of snarling criticism with Neil. The change of position had put Neil on the back foot more than he’d thought it would, and Kevin wasn’t used to watching him make mistakes. He was brutal with Neil, but Neil could recognise it as desperation – having Neil on court with the Foxes raised their chances against the Ravens from zero come fall, but he would have to play a hell of a lot better than he was right now.

Neil suspected that it partly had to do with how far behind Kevin found himself. It was humbling to watch him play right-handed and he was still better than Seth even so, but they were both aware that he wasn’t good _enough_. None of them were good enough.

He was mulling over their predicament when he stepped out of his shower cubicle after afternoon practice. He paused halfway through the doorway, aware of another presence in the locker room that had usually emptied out by now. Nicky was waiting for him in the otherwise-deserted locker room, straddling one of the benches.

Neil and Nicky hadn’t interacted yet other than on the court – Neil had presumed that Andrew had warned him off, the same way that he was sure that Nicky was only here now at Andrew’s command.

“Hi cutie,” he said with a broad smile. “Andrew said that you’re coming out with us tonight. He thought you’d need something to wear – I picked it out, so you’ll like it, and even if you don’t you’ll still look hot.”

Neil frowned down at the bag Nicky had scooted down the bench towards him. “I have my own clothes.”

“Kevin already said you need extra help to fit in with the dress code. I know you’re the type to look good in anything, but didn’t anyone ever tell you that the clothes make the man?”

Neil tilted his head. “What’s your game, Hemmick?”

Nicky’s smirk got wider. “Just trying to win a bet. Tell me, do you swing my way? If you say yes not only will you make me very happy, you’ll make me rich too.”

Ah. That explained it. The Foxes would bet on anything and everything, from the sublime to the extremely tacky. Neil hoped that his expression showed that he was unimpressed by the idea that of everything they could have bet on concerning him, _that_ was what they’d picked.

“I don’t swing. Full stop,” Neil said. “So I guess none of you are going to win that bet.”

“Well, for all you know someone might have put money on you lying about it,” Nicky replied.

“Not lying. Also, not interested,” Neil said, pointing from himself to Nicky. “Do you have anything else to say? Because otherwise we’re done here.”

“Nine o’clock tonight. You better have a nap first, if you want to be able to keep up,” Nicky said. “And Neil. Leave the knife at home, yeah?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neil replied flatly. Nicky looked unimpressed, and also slightly concerned.

“Please? It’d be a shame to get arrested. Be a screeching halt to the season, to start.”

Neil raised an eyebrow at the poorly concealed threat. “Is Andrew going to leave his?”

“I doubt it.”

“If you’re taking advice from him on how to threaten people, I would stop. It doesn’t really work for you,” Neil recommended, choosing not to say, _thanks for giving me a reason to not do as you say_.

“Yeah, the whole ‘smiling assassin’ shtick isn’t me, right?” Nicky said. It was true – Nicky smiled with his entire face, and was sweet like Andrew had probably never been in his entire life.

Neil stared back at him, unmoved. After a moment, Nicky sighed and stood. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Neil waited long enough that he knew Nicky and the others would be gone before leaving the locker room himself for a slow jog back to the Tower. He grabbed a quick dinner and then lay down for a nap but found himself utterly unable to sleep when he did so. He wasn’t frightened so much as uncertain; if Andrew got his way, Neil would probably be on the way back to the Ravens as early as tomorrow. He didn’t know that that would kill Neil, and he likely didn’t care, and Neil wasn’t looking forward to the tactics that he would almost certainly employ to make it happen. He couldn’t rely on Kevin to rein Andrew in, either; Kevin’s bravery was the surviving kind, not the aggressive sort.

He wouldn’t fight for Neil. Only Neil could do that.

He got up with a half hour to spare and dressed in the clothes that Nicky had provided. They were familiarly dark, if not rather closer cut than what Neil would usually wear, but they covered all of his skin like he preferred. He peered at himself in the mirror afterwards, pushing a hand through his hair where it was falling into his face.

His bruises had faded to yellowish patches now, most of it sunk down below the line of his jaw and into the hollow of his cheeks. Abby had pulled out the last of his stitches that morning, but he was going to add more scars there where Riko had flayed his back open. She’d been silent when she’d checked him over that first day, but she hadn’t needed to say anything for Neil to recognise her horror. Healing was good enough, though: by now he was used to the scars.

When he came out of the bathroom, he could hear noise in the lounge, and also Andrew was leaning against the wall in the hallway. Matt and Seth were out with the girls, and Neil had had the door to the suite locked – he huffed through his teeth at their casual breaking and entering.

Andrew looked him from top to toe, slow and amused. “You seem to be getting a better idea of the rules now.”

“And what would they be?” Neil asked.

“That you do as I say,” Andrew provided with a shrug. As soon as Neil walked close enough Andrew reached out and prodded Neil’s side again with a hard hand, making him flinch. “Well, that is unexpected. Maybe he’s not as stupid as I thought!”

“Nicky asked nicely. Might be something for you to try next,” Neil gritted out. “Are we leaving, or are you just going to talk all night?”

“We’re leaving,” Andrew said, spinning and doing just that. The ease with which he turned his back on Neil was infuriating. They tramped down to the car, where Aaron climbed in on one side of the back and left Neil standing with Andrew at his back, the implicit command that he sit in the middle, and a very familiar choking feeling.

“Now that’s more the expression I was hoping for,” Andrew murmured.

Kevin looked up from the passenger seat, saw the problem, and said, “Get in, Nathaniel.”

Neil didn’t know whether he was using that or if he’d just forgotten, but the hot flush of anger was enough to get him moving again. He pushed himself into place and tried to ignore the press of Andrew’s body against his while they settled.   He couldn’t shake the idea that he’d probably just given something away, but there wasn’t time or space for him to consider it.

Except that there ended up being too much time and too little space. Neil didn’t like enclosed spaces and didn’t like being touched by people he didn’t trust, even when they fell asleep like the twins did against their respective windows. Kevin didn’t speak to him, which was lucky seeing as Neil had nothing to say anyway, but he listened to his and Nicky’s back and forth to keep his heart steady when it wanted to tremble in his chest.

It wasn’t helped by Andrew nearly putting a hole through his chest on waking when they were nearly in Columbia. Watching Andrew retch in the weeds was at least enough to distract him, though. It seemed idiotic to Neil to take that kind of risk knowing that you’d be imprisoned if you got caught, but on the other hand Neil wasn’t exactly able to take that moral high ground for exactly the same reason.

“Really?” Neil asked when Andrew pulled himself back into the car and made Nicky drive off.

“I wanted to meet you. Properly,” Andrew replied, still like he was finding all of this hilarious even as his voice sounded as though bits of his throat were peeling off.

Sweetie’s was fine – if fine could be stretched to include Kevin silent, Andrew wracked with withdrawal symptoms, and Nicky chattering like none of that was the case – right up until Neil twigged exactly what those packets the wait staff were dishing out. His stomach dropped right into his feet with the realisation that as relaxed as they were all pretending to be, he was in trouble.

Eden’s Twilight was unfamiliar and unreal. Neil had never gone with the older Ravens to any of the local nightclubs, even as a senior. They’d done any drinking in the safety of the Nest, where they were free to be as underaged and stupid as they liked. He hadn’t missed much. The crush of people was hideously uncomfortable and the music pressed at his eardrums like an enormous pounding heart. He felt like he was already being sealed into his coffin as they fought their way through to find themselves a table.

Andrew and Kevin volunteered themselves to get drinks once they found themselves one and some stools. Andrew asked Neil what he wanted, all pretend generous like he wasn’t making himself an opportunity. When Neil looked up there was something off about Andrew’s face. It took Neil a moment to realise the difference was that Andrew wasn’t smiling. Mostly sober and without the manic grin, Andrew was a completely different beast.

“Soda is fine,” Neil said. “Thanks.” He watched them walk away together while he tried not to grind his teeth.

“So am I going to have to frisk you to find that knife?” Nicky asked into Neil’s ear from where he was sitting next to him.

“Only if you were hoping to lose a hand,” Neil said back, shooting him a glance out of the corner of his eye. Nicky was smiling, unperturbed. Neil could think of several inventive ways to make him lose the smirk, but he kept his hands to himself, listening to Aaron bitching at Nicky for hitting on Neil while he was right there instead.

Andrew bought back a tray of drinks, using Kevin to clear a path for him. It was a lot of drinks; they distributed them between the others pretty much evenly, to the point where the table was covered. Kevin put a glass of colourless soda down in front of Neil, managing to meet his eyes as he did so for the first time properly since Neil had passed on the letter. The message written all over his face wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was familiar.

_Don’t fight if you want to survive._

Shoved between Nicky and Aaron at the table, Neil felt more than ever that he was swimming in an ocean full of sharks. They were playing to win, and they’d cheat wherever possible to ensure that they did. Neil balanced the drink in his hand, knowing exactly what he’d do in their position.

Neil had played this game before. He looked up and met Andrew’s gaze dead on from across the table as he threw back the drink, feeling it coat his throat sickly-sweet. _Sink or swim, Wesninski._

“If you’re hoping to loosen my tongue, it’s not going to take much. I’ve never been into any of that stuff,” Neil remarked. “Too much and you won’t be able to get any sense out of me.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’ve had enough already?”

“I’m saying that if you want to engineer a repeat of things Riko has already done to me, then you’re on the right track, but don’t expect it to end any other way than horribly for you,” Neil snarled back. He’d already known his grip on his temper got tenuous when he was frightened, and he didn’t like to advertise that fact, but he cared less about that than being drugged out of his mind. He could already feel the insidious grip of it, turning his blood hot while his brain lost contact with his extremities.

“Interesting. Are you afraid of losing control?” Andrew asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Probably for the same reason you are,” Neil snapped. “You don’t need to do anything to make me tell the truth. I already showed willing – just _ask me_.”

“Okay, okay,” Andrew said, the tiniest tilt of his mouth showing his amusement. “Aaron, Nicky, why don’t you go sit over there with Kevin while I talk to Neil here.”

He indicated another table just down from them, close enough that Andrew would be able to keep an eye on them but definitely out of earshot with the music pounding so loudly. Neil suspected that they might have argued that usually, but the others moved off without a word of complaint. They did take most of the drinks with them, which was a deep relief to Neil. They left his drugged soda, so he picked it up and took a swallow with a pointed look at Andrew.

Andrew threw back one of his own drinks, and then said, “You turned up here battered and bruised, knowing that people like my teammates can’t resist a sob story. Are you that smart, or are you telling the truth and Riko really is that stupid? I can’t decide.”

“You think I’m lying because I had the shit beaten out of me?” Neil asked. “I’m not that manipulative.”

“Question. A man leaves his cage and travels all the way to the people he wants to make his new owners. And then he goes back to tell the old ones about it, knowing that they might kill him. You already proved yourself a runner – am I supposed to think that you are brave? Or that you were so intent on mocking Riko to his face that you would risk your own life for it?”

“Neither,” Neil said. Andrew looked back at him for a long moment.

“Truth,” he reminded Neil. Neil winced, looked down at the table, swallowed, looked back up.

“Neither,” he repeated. “Jean Moreau. You know him?”

“I have not had the pleasure, but I’ve heard of him. He is the reason you speak French.” Neil blinked, and then realised Andrew must have heard and recognised the language when Neil had given the letter back to Kevin.

“Yes. He was my partner – he’s number four,” Neil said, tapping his cheekbone. “In the Ravens’ Nest, we share both successes and failures. When I fell on court, they put Jean on the floor with me. When I was promoted to the starting line up for this year, Jean and I were meant to be paired together for the season. So I knew if I ran and let them find out that I was gone in my absence, he’d be the one punished for my transgressions.”

“So it was sentimentality, then.”

“I suppose it might seem that way to someone like you,” Neil said. “You can believe me or not. That’s the truth.”

“I believe you. You seem like the soft type,” Andrew said, leaning back at last. Neil had to stop himself from laughing at the idea, and he only succeeded by thinking that maybe everyone seemed soft to Andrew. “Do you want Kevin?”

Neil blinked, struggling to keep up. He had to stare hard at Andrew to keep him in focus; the rest of the room was an uncomfortable blur in the background. “Do I…what?”

“Nicky says you don’t swing. Long way to come to follow a man if you aren’t at least a little interested in fucking him, though,” Andrew suggested.

“Kevin’s straight,” Neil said, sounding puzzled to his own ears. Kevin’s relationship with Thea was secretive, and could have hardly been described as ‘whirlwind’ considering the individuals involved, but Neil had been witness to enough of it that he didn’t doubt it was the real deal.

“I know he is. Being straight doesn’t preclude someone falling for them.”

“So do you think I’m in love with him, or do you think I want to fuck him? I’m curious,” Neil asked, ignoring the other part of that implication because Andrew making a joke right now was a bit much to take.

Andrew stared back at him. Neil guessed that was answer enough – Andrew had no idea, and he didn’t like it either. Neil wondered if he’d been in on the bet on Neil’s sexuality.

“When I said I didn’t swing, I meant that. I just want to play Exy,” Neil relented finally. “But I came here for Kevin. You were right, I could have gone anywhere. There are teams who would kill to have me on their starting line up in my actual position. But I knew the second Riko told us we were coming south that he’d falter. He isn’t sure that you’re enough to protect him, and he’s afraid to lose into the bargain with what he has to work with. I think I’m enough to keep him here. And I know you do too – that’s why we’re here right now.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of even protecting yourself from Riko,” Andrew commented. His focus was a brutal thing, made more impressive by its rarity. Right then Neil would have liked to figure out the secret to it – his own concentration was slipping.

“You’re right,” Neil said with a shrug. “But it’s not a physical danger that Kevin worries about. It’s all in his head, right? The Master would only need to ask and he’d go back. He needs a good enough reason to say no and to keep saying it.”

Andrew didn’t respond, which was as good as saying that he agreed.

“Now, truth for a truth,” Neil said, “Are _you_ in love with him?”

Andrew looked him dead in the face. “No.”

“Why let him stay then?”

“Same reason I’m going to let you stay. We made a deal,” Andrew said. Neil could tell that he wasn’t going to get more out of him than that. He also hadn’t realised how tightly he’d been wound playing this game of words until he heard Andrew say that. His heart was beating faster than normal in his chest. That could have been the crackers, but he wouldn’t have bet his life on it.

“So what’s the deal going to be?” Neil asked after a second.

“You stay here and keep Kevin’s attention. And I’ll stop Riko from killing you the second he gets a chance,” Andrew answered.

Neil said, maybe a little more derisively than he should have, “You can’t protect me from the Moriyamas." The memory of Kengo’s ruthless words and Ichirou’s frozen eyes was fresh in his mind. Riko was scary because he was out of control, but the discipline and power of the main branch was terrifying.

“You don’t need to be protected from them. After all, you were the one who made a deal with them. A lucrative one,” Andrew responded. “But we both know the Ravens are coming here so they can destroy Kevin on the court. It’d be easier without you, and as soon as they find out where you’ve run to Riko will seize any chance he can to get rid of you. Let me make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“You know,” Neil said, more carefully than he’d probably said anything in his life, “I remember when you turned Riko and Kevin down. Kevin was pissed, but he backed off when Riko offered you to him. He’d done his research, he said – he knew someone who could make it happen. Someone you’d known who’d hurt you.”

“Wesninski, you’re going to have to narrow it down.”

“Spear.”

That name was a lightning bolt. Andrew had been smirking a little, like having a list of people who’d hurt him was somehow funny, but that word wiped everything clean off of his face and set the air on fire between them. Neil didn’t know more than a name, but apparently that was enough. Even he felt abruptly more sober.

“What’s your point?” Andrew said. Somehow it came out casual, but looking at him Neil wasn’t entirely sure how.

“I’m saying, maybe you should be more concerned for yourself than Kevin,” Neil said.

“Everyone has to die of something,” Andrew replied with a shrug. “Besides, this is not about Kevin. This is about you. I won’t offer more than once, so decide fast.”

They stared across the table at each other for a long moment. Neil tried to imagine this man protecting him from what Riko and his Ravens could do to him and couldn’t quite picture it. Probably he knew too much of what Riko was capable of. However, Neil had lived with it for five years and survived – perhaps this prickly, more dangerous man in front of him could do better than that. Maybe Andrew would win.

“Alright,” he said at last. “But don’t think I’ve noticed that I’ve given away a lot more this evening than you. I guess if we’re really playing a truth for a truth, you’re going to have to owe me one.”

Andrew stood, casting a look back at Neil. Neil couldn’t quite place the expression on his face. “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Nathaniel.”

He left Neil sitting alone at the table with the dregs of his drink to go to the others. Neil didn’t watch him go, not least because he was busy trying not to look like he wanted to clutch at his chest. The panic he’d buried was there, even though he couldn’t feel his feet against the floor.

 _You won_ , he tried to tell himself, but it still felt like he’d gotten off lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew does drug Neil’s drink and Neil is aware of it from the start. There is some implicit discussion of the Ravens having drugged Neil before. Also there is a mention of Drake/Cass Spear and abuse. Nicky does not kiss Neil.
> 
> Next: Neil crashes night practices.


	5. Chapter 5

Kevin Day had thought that by now Nathaniel would have stopped being able to surprise him.

When the kid had arrived at Evermore at thirteen, grieving and afraid, he’d been just young enough that Riko thought of him as a pest rather than a contemporary. It wasn’t until they faced off across the court that Riko started to actually regard Neil as something other than dead weight.

He had been fast and fearless, as aggressive as someone twice his size. The Ravens had taken that, beaten any softness out of him, and then turned him into a machine with an aim of defending the goal at the detriment of everything else. Neil had broken bones and sprained joints in the pursuit of it, seemingly without a care.

So Kevin probably should have been less shocked that of all the Ravens who could have defied Riko and followed him here, it had been him who had ended up at the Foxhole Court.

Kevin had never been able to affect the pure hardness that Neil wore, a touch of his father on his face. His own exoskeleton was arrogance. It had worked right up until Riko had razed his entire world in one swoop.

He hadn’t salted the ashes, though. That, Kevin could feel in his gut every time he hit his mark with his right hand, and every time this week he had watched Neil on the court in his new position hammering at their defensive line. Kevin wasn’t sure how long the bravado would last, but for now he nursed a little life into the idea that neither of them would end the year six feet under.

Andrew’s phone started to go off on the drive back to the house from the club, loud and obnoxious in the silent car. Kevin thumped his head back against his seat, drunk enough that he didn’t feel upset anymore, knowing who was on the other end of the line.

“Looks like your babysitters are worried about you,” Andrew mock-whispered conspiratorially. He looked delighted when Kevin cast him a glance in the rear-view mirror.

Neil, who was crashing next to him now that the crackers were wearing off, blinked at Andrew. “Whu’?”

Andrew shook his phone in his face. “Didn’t you tell them you were going?”

“Tell-” Neil squinted at the phone. “No. Why would I have?”

“Because they probably think you’re dead in a ditch somewhere,” Aaron grumbled. “Seriously, Andrew. Shut it up.”

“I didn’t realise this was standard practice for you,” Neil said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. He obviously hadn’t gotten the memo that he needed the overbearing protection of the upperclassmen as he had looked Andrew in the eye and downed a drink that he’d guessed was spiked.

“ _Andrew_ ,” Aaron snarled. Andrew made sure to smile at him with all of his teeth before answering.

“Hello, Renee,” he said, and then, “Have you lost your new pet already? Yes, he’s here with us. He’s fine. Did you want to ask him yourself?”

Neil muttered, “No, thank you,” but Andrew didn’t appear to care as he shoved the phone into Neil’s hand.

Despite his protest, Neil did lift it to his ear, albeit with a glare that Andrew ignored.

“Renee? Yeah, I’m fine. Yes, I am sure,” Neil said, faux-patient. “I don’t know, ask him. Well, I’m not dead in a ditch, so I presume so. Yes, I can handle it.”

It sounded even to Kevin like he meant, _I can handle him_. He sounded sure, but Kevin wasn’t sure whether he believed it or not.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” he said before he hung up and dropped the phone into Andrew’s lap.

The upperclassmen were there on Saturday morning to greet Neil, clucking like protective parents. Neil, who had a long list of reasons to distrust a bunch of older college students, folded in with them with an ease that Kevin wouldn’t have expected from him. He’d seen Neil fight tooth and nail against the Raven upperclassmen, for his spot and literally, so it was strange to see him interact with Dan and Boyd like he wouldn’t turn and bite their hands off if they touched him wrong.

Kevin stayed away from Neil all weekend, mostly because he couldn’t quite erase the look in Neil’s eyes when he’d put that drink down in front of him from his mind. It hadn’t been his idea, but he hadn’t reined Andrew in either: it was too similar to too many nights in the Nest, too many ‘jokes’ on Neil that weren’t even vaguely funny. Guilt was a thick and familiar taste in his throat when he lay in bed each night. It was probably stupid, but Kevin had been told that he was the weakling sentimental type for as long as he could remember. Now, he was sure he’d rather be soft than Riko Moriyama.

Monday night on the way to the court was the first time Kevin had been alone with Andrew since before their trip to Columbia. Andrew looked predictably unbothered by the way Kevin kept opening his mouth and then closing it again. Kevin wasn’t that sure if it was because he was being ignored

“What did he say?” Kevin managed at last, his words rushing out into the silent interior of the car.

Andrew, tired and nearly sober, said, “You’re going to have to narrow it down a little. When?”

“In Columbia.”

“Nothing that surprised me. He went back for Moreau, did you know? All those cuts and bruises for some backliner who Riko could have murdered several times over by now without either of you knowing a thing. So apparently you and he are both more and less similar than I thought.”

Kevin had flinched at Jean’s name, and by the end of Andrew’s spiel his mouth was a little numb. “ _Andrew_.”

“You asked. Did you think I was going to lie?” Kevin could only shake his head.

“I don’t trust him. But I made a deal with him even so, and I plan to see it out,” Andrew continued, slumped back in his seat with one hand on the steering wheel while he gazed fixedly out the windscreen.

“Why?” Kevin croaked.

“Because there’s something in it for me,” Andrew said. “Why, did you think I had gotten a soft spot for him just because you do? Or because I feel sorry for him because your Ravens abused him? Or because his mother is most likely dead?”

“Did he tell you that, or did you figure it out?”

“Like recognises like, Day. Not everyone needs everything spelt out for them like you do.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, Kevin shuddering on the inside.

When they’d let themselves into the building, Andrew paused on the way to the inner ring, quick enough Kevin nearly crashed into his back. The court lights were already on, despite the fact that the entire stadium appeared to be silent. It was only when Kevin looked to the court that he saw Neil sitting cross-legged over the pawprint in the centre, leaning back on his arms so he could look up at them.

“Look, now you can ask him if he told me exactly what it is you don’t want me to know yourself,” Andrew said. “Off you go, now. You can decide between the two of you whether whatever secret you are trying to keep is worth it.”

Kevin went down to where Neil had left the court door propped open with a cone and let himself inside. He was used to being within the glass walls by himself: it was strange to have a single other person there, especially without gear on. Neil looked even tinier in track pants and a oversized t-shirt, at sea on the wooden floor.

“Did you break in here?” Kevin asked, folding himself down to the floor across from Neil.

“Coach gave me a set of keys,” Neil said, jangling them gently in his pocket. “You really haven’t changed.”

Kevin tilted his head, a silent request for clarification.

Neil pointed to the floor in front of his crossed legs. “Don’t you think the extra sleep might be better for you? You’re going to start seeing Exy-themed hallucinations from practicing three times a day.”

“I need it. You’ve seen – I need it.”

“Yeah, I have seen,” Neil confirmed. “Your aim is absolute shit, and the Ravens are going to slaughter us in October. You need help.”

He let that hang in the air between them. It was the first time since Kevin had arrived at Palmetto that someone other than him had said words to that effect, rather than complex variations on how well he was doing, considering. It was oddly freeing.

“Yes,” Kevin said decisively. “Is that why you’re here?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Neil said, pointing to the court floor again. “But I’m _here_ because this is where I want to be.”

“Andrew still has…reservations.”

“He’d be stupid if he didn’t. I wouldn’t trust me either. I won’t begrudge him that.”

“You didn’t tell him about Nathan,” Kevin clarified.

“He didn’t ask. Besides, what does it matter? He’s in Seattle, and Kengo keeps the rest of them on a short leash.”

“He won’t be in there forever, though. It wasn’t that kind of sentence. And he’s not that kind of man.”

Neil raised an eyebrow at Kevin, his expression wry and a little threatening at the same time. “I know what kind of man he is.”

Fair enough. Kevin went on before Neil could bite his head off, “Andrew thinks that your mother is dead.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. Look, Kevin, we didn’t get into my complicated family life in a club while I was high and he was trying to figure out whether or not he was going to need to ship me back to Evermore in chunks. I’ll mention it if it becomes necessary, but until then I’m not going to say anything about my father and neither are you. Alright?”

Kevin nods. Andrew’s curiosity was pretty much non-existent, so the likelihood of him asking rather than assuming based on what Neil had already said was zero. Kevin wasn’t a liar, but omission was doable.

“Why didn’t you just run?” Kevin asked abruptly. “You could have gone – anywhere and been safer than you will be here. Why not just go?”

“Because that worked so well for me before,” Neil said, somewhere between a joke and a brutal statement of fact. “Kevin. You know why. The same reason you walked back on a court just so you could struggle. Because both of us need to win. And because both of us don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Is that going to be enough if you don’t even like it?”

“People like us are crazy addicts. Liking isn’t enough; only obsession is. Speaking of, how did you get the world’s most disinterested man to become the world’s most territorial guard dog? Because I distinctly remember him turning a position down just because he doesn’t give a fuck.”

Kevin shrugged. “When you know what someone wants, they’re easy to manipulate.”

“Does he want Exy? Or does he just want _something_ , or some _one_ , and you ever so conveniently happened to offer him both?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes. What happens when he stops caring about whatever it is that you have on him?”

“He won’t.” Of that, Kevin was certain. He wouldn’t have made that deal with Andrew if he wasn’t – he was the sort to make bargains if he couldn’t keep up his end of them. Kevin wasn’t stupid, and he recognised that even leached of all colour by Andrew’s apathy, Exy was still enough to make him try when he wasn’t busy trying to get a rise out of Kevin. “Why do you even _care_?”

“I don’t.”

“Then either _shut up_ or ask him yourself.”

Neil blew out a long breath. “You know, all these months I thought I was dedicating a decent amount of energy to hating you, but my memories really didn’t do justice to how much of an asshole you actually are.”

Kevin surprised himself by laughing, soft and low enough that it didn’t break the quietening air between the two of them. “Should I be glad I’ve had a chance to remind you?”

“Probably. I’m not very fond of the alternatives,” Neil said, shrugging one narrow shoulder.

After a moment, Kevin asked, “Have you been coming here at night?”

Neil looked over at the door, which Kevin had left cracked behind him. “Early mornings.”

“Are we going to have a problem?” He couldn’t think of a nicer way to put it.

“We’re always going to have a problem. Guess we’ll find out for sure on Friday, right?” Neil asked, the twist of his mouth self-deprecating. “Kevin. Are you going to let me help you?”

Kevin looked at him for a long moment, taking in all of him now that the months apart had made him a little unfamiliar. If Kevin stretched his own memory, he could very vaguely recall Mary Hatford, tiny and dark-haired, but he’d never looked at Neil and seen anything other than Nathan. There was nothing besides his stature that suggested Neil wasn’t a clone of his father, except for the tiny bloom of warmth in his eyes that Nathan had probably never shown anyone his entire life.

“Yes,” Kevin said, because he had to, and because he wanted to into the bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: game night.
> 
> So we can all be thankful that I'll stop writing about things I don't understand (feelings) and move onto things I do (sports).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and to those who've commented! Come talk to me on tumblr, I'm badacts there too.


	6. Chapter 6

Game day dawned bright and fine, and Dan was somewhere between nervous and anticipatory as she struggled her way through her classes. Up against Breckenridge they didn’t have much of a shot, but to her at least it would be a relief to have the first game of the season over with.

Neil’s name and face had been released by the ERC that morning before the game, which meant the internet had exploded with speculation. His background with the Ravens was still a secret – for now – but the tattoo on his face meant something to Exy fans. Neil and Kevin being together on the same team was probably enough for them to start putting it together.

Dan had spent enough of her week worrying about Neil already, between his trip to Columbia with the monsters and the fact that apparently he got up before five every morning sounding like he was about to have a panic attack and left the dorms for hours on end afterwards. Matt had tried to speak to him about it and gotten a blank-faced _I’m fine_ in response, and Renee had confided that she doubted he would willingly speak with Betsy about his nightmares. Dan had put Neil’s mental health on her list of things to deal with after the game, and she’d sent the others out to escort him around today so that he didn’t get harassed.

It seemed kind of ridiculous, but even though Neil was a prickly stray cat of a human being with no idea about basic friendship and affection, Dan still _liked_ him. Gratifyingly, the feeling seemed to be mutual. Neil had an obvious distrust of Renee and an even more obvious dislike of Seth, but he clung to Matt and Dan despite his ceasefire with the monsters.

She caught herself saying to Matt the other night, “He just needs some attention.” It sounded stupid seeing as Neil was an adult but it was also true – he bloomed a little with their regard in ways that she doubted he himself even noticed.

She hated to say it, but she had been relieved to see that last Friday had bought an end to Neil’s standoff with Andrew. It made it a lot easier to catch him after dinner and tell him about Andrew and Wymack’s deal.

Neil understandably had reservations, though they mostly had to do with Andrew’s ability to play rather than the safety of the rest of them. On the other hand, Dan might not have remembered her trip to Columbia, but she knew enough from Renee to know that Andrew would have been at least mostly sober there. Neil had survived that without a single bruise, as far as Dan could tell, so he probably figured he had no reason to be afraid.

Maybe he was right. Dan didn’t pretend to know how Andrew’s mind worked.

Hitting the court with thousands of people cheering for them was something Dan would never take for granted. Kevin got an enormous cheer as he proceeded first through the doors, and Dan couldn’t begrudge him that – despite her irritation at his heavy-handed and unending criticism, she admired him for his persistence. Not that she would tell him that, ever.

She took her position between half-court and first-fourth, watching the rest of her Foxes take theirs and then the Jackals file in on the other side of the court. As dealer she was without a partner on the court and stood alone in while the baying of the crowds filtered through the door. There were no words for this, just the expectant thrumming of her heart in her chest.

The doors slammed close, and a second later one of the Jackal strikers said to Seth, “I hope you’re ready to lose.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kevin growled back. Seth used his middle finger to make his point, and then turned it on Kevin when Kevin snapped something at him.

“All of you be quiet,” Dan commanded, and was gratified when they did so. Even if they hadn’t, the warning buzzer sounded an instant later.

Dan lowered her racquet and lowered her weight, rolling onto the balls of her feet. _Breathe, in and out, and then_ –

The buzzer sounded again, and with a crack of the Jackal dealer’s racquet the ball was in play.

The game was always going to rough, and Dan wasn’t surprised when players clashed within seconds of start. That was at the edges of her mind as she chased the ball and caught it first from a satisfying rebound off the wall. She spun, glanced, threw to Seth, and hit the wall within a second, only to have someone slam into her back and grind her up against it. _Legal. Asshole._ She put every inch of muscle into heaving them off of her to rejoin the game.

The ball got lost in the scrum between Fox offense and Jackal defence, straight back towards Dan between her strikers and defensive line. She threw it towards Seth again, who won the race for it, but one heavy smack from Gorilla sent his racquet flying. Gorilla stole it and made a quick shot on goal that Andrew didn’t even bother moving for.

Seconds later he shifted his weight from his careless slump and got in on the play, batting away two shots in quick succession from too close to the goal. The second shot Dan took, only for the Jackal dealer to knock her over in a flurry of limbs. Her shoulder ground against the floor even through her armour, but she barely noticed it. Years of exposure had her on her feet a second later and chasing her mark toward home goal.

There was no chance for her to take the ball from him before he passed it, but that didn’t stop her from bulling into him hard enough to floor them both. Whoever had said that revenge didn’t feel good was wrong, because that and the wild screaming of the home crowd certainly got Dan’s blood singing.

It was inevitable with the amount of time the Jackals spent in the Fox half that the Foxes would have to concede the first goal, though. Crushed in home court, Dan slipped and let her mark fire on goal, which Andrew thankfully deflected, but a second later Gorilla slammed her and Aaron both out of the way, clearing a path for one of their strikers. The goal lit red and the Breckenridge black-and-tan section in the stands went crazy.

_Fuck_. When she went to check on Matt, whose tangle with Gorilla had seen him floored, he shot her a frustrated look. Even with his size, he wasn’t a match for the bigger backliner without wilfully breaking the rules, and the Foxes couldn’t afford to have their best player red-carded this early in the game.

Predictably, Seth and Kevin were also the first to start fighting. It was unfortunate that they decided to fight each other.

Dan broke them apart with her body in a modified check that sent Seth stumbling back with her gripping the front of his helmet. “You need to shut the fuck up and play, Gordon.”

“He-” Seth started, only to have Dan rattle his helmet so hard his teeth clacked.

“That goes for you, too, Day,” she went on, spinning to shove her finger in Kevin’s face. “Remember who we’re actually fighting here and get yourselves together. _Go._ ”

They jogged back to their positions like sulky teenage boys rather than adults with a job to do. Dan looked up to check the refs weren’t about to take matters into their own hands, and when she was sure they were going to stay outside the court she took her own spot again.

Seconds after restart Kevin took a perfect shot on goal to score, and then he was fighting again, this time with his mark rather than his teammate. Even through the walls the baying from the crowd was audible. Dan threw a glance over her shoulder and waded in with Matt at her back, extricating her striker before someone broke his face.

The Jackals got yellow carded, Dan’s serve. She made it count, spinning to hit it to Andrew, who smashed it up court where the strikers were already heading.

With twenty minutes down on the clock, Dan looked up and realised that Kevin was beset by more than his fair share of backliners. She spun, searching, right as the alarm went off for one of them stopping play.

Seth was dragging himself up the wall, his body on a dangerous lean like he’d had every scrap of air beaten out of his lungs. _Fuck._ Dan ground her teeth and ran to help him make it to the court door. She passed him over to Allison in the doorway and waved Neil in to her.

As he stepped through, the announcer blared, “Going on for Seth Gordon is Nathaneil Wesninski, number ten.”

The door slammed behind him and the bolts slid home. And then, right there at half-court, Neil paused.

“Ready?” Dan asked. Her heart was already sinking and she couldn’t determine why. When he didn’t respond, she had to ask, “ _Neil._ Are you ready?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said, though his face was still half-turned over his shoulder towards the door. He looked a little lost, his mouth pinched down. Dan stood next to him, waiting for him to come back to her and hoping it looked like they were having an important discussion rather than her staring at him in questioning silence.

Out of nowhere, the ball passed within centimetres of Dan’s arm and cracked off of Neil’s helmet.

“Jesus fuck,” Dan exclaimed, moving to avoid the rebound.

“Hey, Raven!” Andrew hailed from where he had stepped forward away from his goal. “Today, please!”

Neil scooped the ball up where it was rolling over the floor and slammed it back to Andrew, who caught it in his gloved hand. Then he jogged across court to his starting spot like he hadn’t just frozen solid, setting against the home court wall. Dan followed him to her own mark, joining him just as he called to Neil, “Is it true you ditched Evermore to play with the last-ranked team in the NCAA?”

“What the fuck?” the backliner who’d tried to beat Kevin’s face in asked. “You really gave up playing with Ravens to play with a cripple?”

The smash of Andrew’s racquet against the goal shut them up, not a second too soon. When she threw Kevin a glance he looked tight-lipped and even more determined than usual. She wondered for a second if Andrew might follow through on the unspoken threat, but evidently he couldn’t be bothered, because he stepped backwards instead.

The buzzer sounded, cueing Andrew into lifting the ball up. He looked straight at Neil and said, “Start moving, runaway. This one is yours.”

Dan still couldn’t believe sometimes the pure turn of speed Neil was capable of. He spun and ran as Andrew bounced the ball and then hit it full-strength up the court. There was no cutting him off – he melted around the other players, there and gone before they could even think of moving to stop him.

He caught the ball on the full off of the wall in an impressive leap, ducking away from his mark in one fluid move as he landed. His pass was accurate enough that Dan barely had to move her racquet to receive it, and she shot it immediately to Kevin.

Gorilla spoiled the chance Neil had bought them, knocking Kevin away twice in quick succession and helping the ball back down to home court. The two strikers were left standing at Dan’s back snarling while the Jackals basically took shots on goal from just out of Andrew’s reach until they scored. The goal was too big for Andrew to protect every angle when they harried him like that. It was frustrating to watch.

Obviously not just to her, either. As they returned to their starting spots, Neil snarled, “Your backliners need to do their job.”

“They’re your backliners now too,” Kevin snapped back. He was stretching his wrists out in a way that concerned Dan deeply, clearly hurting from Gorilla’s hits.

“Make me an opening,” Neil said after a moment of watching Kevin shake the feeling into his fingers. Dan couldn’t figure out what he meant.

It became clear a second later when Aaron made a clear pass to Neil. Somehow in the melee Neil had lost his mark Leverett to Kevin, and was between Gorilla and the wall when he received the ball in a remarkable leap.

Dan saw her life flash before her eyes as Gorilla went for him. There was no way that he wasn’t about to have every single bone in his body broken against the wall by someone a foot taller than him. She watched, speechless, as Neil started to take his ten steps right up against the wall, putting himself in a perfect position to be taken out of the game altogether.

Gorilla surged up to him, racquet at the ready and shoulder down. It was almost impossible to see what happened from further inside the court because Gorilla dwarfed Neil so completely, but one minute the backliner was within inches of turning Neil into paste, and the next he was smashing against the wall shoulder and head first.

Neil carried on to finish his steps unmolested, bounced the ball off the wall to himself for another run, and then the goal went red almost too quick to follow. Behind him, Gorilla was still trying to get to his feet without much success. Somehow Neil had ducked out of the way just in time to fake him out perfectly.

Neil jogged back towards Dan, relaxed like he was out for a stroll. “Reckon he’s done?”

There was no way he wasn’t. He limped off court to be replaced, and even with a protest from the Jackals Neil wasn’t carded. He hadn’t hit Gorilla, after all: he had just gotten out of the way and Gorilla’s weight had done all the work for him.

“Nice,” Dan said like her heart wasn’t still in throat, clashing sticks with him as they jogged down the court together. Then she grabbed Neil’s jersey and shook him a little. “Next time, don’t scare the shit out of me.”

He offered her a grin as he peeled off to bump shoulders with Kevin and take their places again. Kevin had a new mark, one who was slighter than him, and he immediately took advantage of it to duck around them and bolt up court with the ball he’d just stolen from Dan’s dealer mark. He had to pass out to Neil, which they did effortlessly in Raven style. Neil bounced it back to Kevin only to have to knocked away by the goalie down the court. The Jackal strikers tussled with Matt and Aaron again the ball was knocked free to half court again.

It went point to point for a while. At halftime break the Foxes were only down one, and Dan still had a grip on a vague hope that they might actually win. They started back on court with Nicky and Matt, with Dan back on after she’d had a short swap with Allison at the end of first half.

Leverett the backliner had evidently spent halftime stewing over Neil’s trick with Gorilla, because she came out swinging for him. She ruined a few shots on goal before making her chance and slamming into him full-body when he wasn’t even in possession of the ball.

He hit the wall hard, crushed under the full weight of her, and when she got up, Neil didn’t.

Kevin moved to him before anyone else had a chance, signalling a halt to play. The Jackal goalie took the ball to keep it safe, though Dan doubted he would keep it – the refs were already coming on court, and Leverett would almost certainly be carded.

Kevin dropped down next to the fallen striker with Dan at his shoulder. Neil had taken a hard hit, but he wasn’t still down because of that, Dan realised when she looked at him – he was hyperventilating.

“Is he having a panic attack?” Dan asked blankly, and then shook herself. “Hey, Neil.”

He ignored her, looking instead at Kevin, though Dan wasn’t entirely sure that Neil was actually seeing him. Kevin, who had never said a single comforting word to anyone the entire time Dan had known him, said almost gently, “Neil, come on.”

That didn’t work. He was triggered and gone beyond where they could easily snap him out of it, and the refs were already almost on top of them after having sent Leverett off.

“Dan, sub him off,” Kevin said, “ _Now_. Nathaniel-”

That got a reaction: Neil snarled at him wordlessly, all his teeth and too much white in his eyes showing.

“I was planning on it,” Dan replied, managing to sound unimpressed by the pair of them despite her concern. “Get him up. He’s winded.”

The last part was for the benefit of the refs, who allowed the two of them to help Neil off the court and into Matt’s waiting hands. By then Neil had already gotten a grip on himself. Dan followed them through the doors, letting Seth and Allison take the court in their places and ushering Kevin back out to play rather than hover over Neil.

Neil slumped back onto the bench, Abby already fussing over him as he pulled off his helmet and bandana. He accepted an icepack from her with hands that didn’t shake, tucking it against his ribs under his jersey. Then he slumped over a little, head propped on his free hand. Andrew, who was sitting next to him, leaned over to say something in his ear. Neil shot him a sideways glare.

Dan looked up from the pair of them and met Wymack’s eye unintentionally. Dan doubted that the entire thing had looked like anything other than what she had played it off as, but Wymack knew enough about Neil to know that something had gone down out there. By that point they didn’t need words to exchange a mutual  _what the fuck_. 

Their luck kept declining, too. When play broke off again, they sent Matt on for Aaron, and Dan realised instantly that they were about to lose another player.

“Shit,” she muttered, looking through the wall to where Kevin was standing examining his ungloved left hand. He looked pinched again, which wasn’t surprising but was disheartening. “Coach, he’s going to need to be subbed.”

They were in trouble. Neil looked up at her expectantly, waiting to be told to go back on as she evaluated whether she had the energy to sub for Kevin herself. There was no chance though – Allison would have to come off sooner rather than later, and Dan was going to need to be able to play dealer.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked Neil, low enough to not be easily audible to anyone except Andrew, who was lounging next to Neil half asleep.

“I’ll be fine,” Neil replied. He looked like he really believed it, but that didn’t reassure Dan; he’d looked fine before, as well.

“He’ll be fine,” Andrew volunteered lazily. He was grinning again, eyes alight. “Haven’t you noticed? Neil’s very good at being fine.”

Kevin was at the door by now, looking through at them expectantly. When he trotted through he said to Neil, “Go. Now.”

Neil went. As soon as the door closed behind him, Kevin looked at who was in earshot – only Dan and Andrew – and said to Wymack, “He’s claustrophobic.”

“ _What_?” Dan said. “We’re in a stadium!”

“We’re locked in a plexiglass box,” Kevin corrected quietly. “We’re dealing with it.”

Wymack didn’t looked flabbergasted, because that wasn’t his style. He raised an eyebrow at Kevin that said everything he was thinking, from, _you could have mentioned that earlier,_ to, _you, dealing with it?_ He had a point – as far as Dan was aware, Kevin’s only methods of dealing with anything were vodka and repression.

“He’ll be fine,” Kevin reiterated firmly. Dan wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them or himself more. Andrew just laughed again, which at least told her which he thought it was.

Neil had retaken his place by then, and true to his word he was fine. He didn’t play the same, though – he didn’t freeze when the door closed, but he was too careful not to be caught against the wall by his mark. He scored once more, and Seth got two as well, but it wasn’t enough to stop them being down by two when the final buzzer went off.

The locker room was predictably morose despite Wymack and Dan attempting to be bolstering, and Seth didn’t help matters by demanding of Neil, “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

“Nothing,” Neil said back flatly. He was leaning against his locker, his jersey off but his armour still strapped on over his undershirt.

“Leave it, Seth. _Tomorrow_ we’re going to talk about the value of sharing vital information with our coach and teammates,” Wymack said, terminally unimpressed. “For now, go shower and go the fuck to bed. We’ve got an early start in the morning for this godforsaken talk-show.”

They all groaned bitterly, Dan included, but did as he said. If she lay awake even after their impromptu drinking session that night running more worst-case scenarios, then she was the only one who knew about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Kathy Ferdinand, Riko Moriyama and the inside of Andrew's head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is lifted from The Foxhole Court, so if it sounds familiar that's why and it belongs to Nora.
> 
> You may have noticed I have changed the Archive Warnings/Ratings, but that's not because this chapter suddenly descends into violence and non-con - I'm writing later scenes which need the warnings and I don't want to falsely advertise this fic as something it isn't (nice).

Andrew used the white-hot craving, the churning in his gut, the same way each time he abused the medication. Game nights might have been for fighting, for pushing himself until whatever he had left nearly broke him or everyone else, but there was a simpler sort of self-denial he liked to indulge in, too. The lull between waking and the first pill of the day he always dedicated to the only clear thought he ever got a chance for these days.

Andrew flexed and took control where he could.

Slumped in his seat on the bus and distantly aware of Kevin walking up and down the aisle, he stared at the window and just thought.

Annoyingly, Andrew’s first thought was still Neil Wesninski. Andrew hadn’t lived this long by trusting boys with pretty faces and dagger-sharp smiles, who told the truth because they didn’t have anything to lose but played pretend to seem mild-mannered even so. He hadn’t lied when he said that Neil was soft, but he also wasn’t deluded enough to think that there wasn’t a spine of iron underneath that.

He was interesting. _That_ was dangerous.

He was an itch that Andrew still felt like he hadn’t scratched, even after watching him crumble last night on the court. Andrew had said to him, _I don’t think you look afraid enough yet_. He’d seen the first glimpses of Neil’s fear – getting in the car, and when he had snarled at Andrew over the crackers – but this was something deeper. Andrew was familiar with the sort of fear that was taught.

“Kevin,” Andrew said at last, because that was getting a little too deep into his own head. Kevin came back to him and handed over the bottle of Andrew’s pills so he could take one and put the familiar weight of it back into his pocket.

Kathy Ferdinand greeted Kevin like they were old friends. Andrew didn’t care about her – she was a circling shark but the kind that fed on drama, not anything more serious. Andrew’s promise hadn’t extended to protecting Kevin from people like Kathy, especially not when this had been Kevin’s idea in the first place.   He tuned their blathering out right up until Kathy turned to Neil.

“Nathaniel Wesninski, good morning. I don’t know if you would have heard, but as of this morning you’re the third most searched striker in NCAA Exy after Riko and Kevin. How does it feel?”

That didn’t interest Andrew, but Neil’s expression did – it had quite suddenly turned Raven, not quite back to the way it had been that very first day Neil had arrived at PSU, but distinctly arrogant like Andrew hadn’t seen in a while.

He gestured to the unmistakeable tattoo under his left eye. “I wouldn’t like to joke about taking up my rightful place, but…”

“Did Kevin talk to you?”

“About what?”

“I want you on my show this morning. The rumours are running rampant and everyone wants to know about you, an apparent rookie numbered for Riko’s perfect court who plays like a Raven but has taken his place on the Fox line-up. Go on – you must want to satisfy the country’s curiosity.”

Neil tilted his head, which was apparently enough for Kevin to start looking strained while he watched Neil and Kathy interact. Andrew was used to seeing arrogant Kevin and mild Neil interact during the day, and the way their faces matched each other at night on the court (daring, determined), but seeing Kevin’s pasted-on smile in comparison to Neil at that moment was jarring.

If this was ‘Neil’ starting to fray already, then Andrew was interested to see what Nathaniel Wesninski had to say on live television.

“Sure,” Neil replied. He and Kathy smiled at one another, pretty and ruthless, before Kathy left them to her aides while she got ready for the show herself. Kevin and Neil were hustled off together while Andrew and the others were taken to their seats in the audience.

Dan said under her breath to Matt as they were sitting, “Do they really think this is a good idea?”

Matt shrugged in response. “Bit late now. I don’t think he’ll say anything terrible.”

“Which one?” Dan asked, with a smirk.

Kevin stepped out on the stage when Kathy introduced him like he belonged there, a born entertainer rather than the obsessive perfectionist that Andrew had sentenced himself to. The crowd was going wild behind the Foxes, the noise increasing threefold when Kevin turned to the audience and waved. Dan, clapping politely on Matt’s other side, made a face at the way the women screamed Kevin’s name.

“Kevin!” Kathy chirped, once the noise had eventually ceased and they had taken their seats. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again on my show. I can’t believe I managed to talk you into it. And what’s more, I can’t believe I’m seeing you here alone!”

“I at least have some room to stretch out now,” Kevin said, a neat evasion. “And I might need to. It’s a little early to be here after playing last night. You’re all lucky I’m here and presentable.”

Someone in the crowd yelled again, making Kathy and Kevin both laugh.

“And you know what I want to talk about. Your first time back on court in months and you’re out there in orange. Why the Foxes? I don’t want to offend you but you must admit that it’s a long way from the top of the table to the bottom.”

“A lot of things played into my decision, but the most important was that last December, when I thought I would never play again, Coach Wymack and his team took me in without hesitation. I wasn’t – it’s the sort of thing that will break you, if you don’t have the right people around you. Coach was the only one I could think of who could be that for me, and he didn’t let me down. What’s more, I enjoy working with the Foxes.”

Wymack shifted next to Andrew, probably because Kevin would never say the same thing to his face. Not that that meant he hadn’t had an understanding of it anyway – Wymack understood all of them better than they ever would each other, no matter their similarities.

Kathy reached across and took Kevin’s scarred hand, and they smiled at each other, picture-perfect. If Andrew had had it in him, he’d probably have retched.

Kathy said, “I really thought that we’d be seeing you back in black this fall, but really I’m just so pleased to see you back on the court after everything. You deserve a big hand for that.”

Once the audience had quieted again, Kathy went on, “It was a shame that of all the draws you could have had, Breckenridge was your opponent. Not that we were disappointed in the spectacle – you and your team put up a hell of a fight. And your newest player - lets talk about Nathaniel Wesninski for a moment. _Everyone_ is talking about him right now. Are the rumours true? Was he destined to be a Raven?”

“Neil trained with the Ravens before he came to Palmetto, yes. He was a ward of the Moriyamas so we’ve played together since we were much younger.”

“Like Jean Moreau? It seems a shame that we’ve never heard much about him.”

“Yes, just like Jean. Neil has some complications in his family life that made it important to maintain his privacy, so that he could be protected,” Kevin said, sounding like he’d been coached to say that by the man himself to Andrew’s ears. “He’s an exceptionally talented player, as those who watched last night would have seen. The Foxes were lucky to sign him, despite him needing to switch positions.”

“I’m sorry – are you saying that he wasn’t a striker?”

“Oh, no,” Kevin said, “Neil was trained as a backliner. Not that you could necessarily tell watching him.”

“Yes, his debut was startling. It’s a pity that he took such a nasty hit in the second half,” Kathy said. “The Foxes went to great lengths to keep information about him under wraps – why was that?”

“After everything last season with my move south, we decided that the priority would need to be keeping him safe. The ERC is a group big enough to make even idle gossip too much of a risk for people like us. Plus we were getting sick of the graffiti.”

“Hm, understandable. Well, nothing stays secret forever, and I think it’s time we introduced the newest Palmetto State Fox to the world. Nathaniel Wesninski, everybody!”

The man who walked onto the stage was unmistakeably Nathaniel Wesninski, whoever that was, rather than Neil. Andrew wasn’t the only one who noticed, either – Dan and Matt exchanged a look in the corner of his eye, and Wymack shifted again.

Once Neil was seated, Kathy sat back in her chair and looked at the two of them side by side on the couch. “It’s fascinating – when I imagined seeing two players marked like you both are on my show again, it certainly wasn’t two and three together.”

She leaned over her desk a little for the express purpose of sharing a smile with Neil. “Nathaniel, we all have so many questions – but the most important one must be, how have we not heard about someone who plays like you?”

“Kevin said it for me – kids shouldn’t be in the spotlight too much, particularly ones like me. It meant that I was able to learn to play without the media breathing down my neck, and it certainly doesn’t mean that I missed any time on the court,” Neil replied. “As for my schoolwork, though – we all have to have priorities.”

The audience laughed along with him. Just like that, he was weaving a spell – this was a kid who played sports and who was good at them, rather than the traumatised ex-Raven who Andrew was just barely getting a grip on. It was a safe lie that Andrew didn’t respect and didn’t believe would last anyway.

“So you must be used to playing with champions. I have to ask, though – we know now why Kevin stayed with the Foxes. But why leave the Ravens yourself, especially when it means swapping from defence to offence?”

“Playing with champions isn’t all it’s made out to be, Kathy. I respect what Kevin is doing – he has had to rebuild from the ground up himself, and he’s chosen to do the same with this team. Maybe I just wanted to play a part in that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because playing on an established team is nice, but it’s not the same claim to fame as winning with an improving one. The Foxes have it in them to go all the way.”

“So you both really think that the Foxes are ready to contest a championship?”

Kevin and Neil exchanged a look before Neil grinned a little and said, “They will be.”

“That’s very exciting. And I can only imagine, Nathaniel, that your skills will play a role in that. Your play last night against Hawking, the Jackal’s number sixteen – that was impressive stuff.”

“Thanks,” Neil replied. “I hope he still has a headache this morning.”

“Do you? That sentiment sounds a little more Fox than Raven.”

“Well, you don’t know Ravens like I do. Look, no one understands that Exy is a dangerous sport more than the players do, and we accept that there are always going to be players who intentionally try to take the opposition out of the game. That means sometimes making sure that those players don’t get a chance. Playing nice might work for the Trojans, but it was never going to work for me.”

Those were fighting words, and they weren’t entirely meant for Breckenridge. The crowd cheered – they were Exy fans, and they enjoyed a little show of violence.

“Christ,” Wymack muttered.

Dan turned to him and said only just loud enough to carry, “You’ve seen him play.” She meant, _You can’t be that surprised_.

Kathy had been laughing. “Big words, Nathaniel, but I like a bit of spirit. It was a shame you took such a nasty hit yourself during the game. You did make it back on, so I’m hoping you feel okay this morning?”

Neil shrugged. “Bruised ribs. Hardly the worst I’ve gotten on the court.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Wymack muttered again.

“I’m glad to hear that, and I’m so excited to see what the two of you will achieve together this season. As long as I’m right in assuming that you’ll both stay here in the long run? Evermore won’t be calling you back anytime soon?”

“No,” Neil said, as sure as death.

Kevin’s pause was long enough to make Neil look to him afterwards before he said, a little quietly, “I want to stay with the Foxes as long as Coach Wymack will have me.”

“That’s a shame, if you don’t mind me saying. But I’m interested to see what will happen when the Foxes face off with the Ravens this fall. Why the district change?”

“I wouldn’t pretend to know,” Kevin said, deceptively light. He looked like he was quite aware he was stepping on thin ice.

“They didn’t say anything to you?” Kathy asked, her smile slipping.

“We haven’t been in touch,” Neil replied for the both of them.

“Oh,” Kathy said, and then, “Well, maybe I’ll be able to clear that up for you!”

The music that played over the loudspeakers wasn’t familiar to Andrew – after all, he had never watched a Ravens game. Not so to Kevin and Neil: the colour had leached out of both of their faces, Kevin wide-eyed and Neil concealing a snarl. Not so Andrew’s teammates, either – Wymack swore quietly but viciously, and Matt stiffened. The audience had gone wild again around them.

Riko Moriyama looked exactly as Andrew remembered when he stepped out on the stage. He’d said to Kevin, _Like recognises like_ , and the only difference between Andrew and Riko was that one of them was born with iron control and the other had only the light rein of his career keeping him in check. Riko was smiling, but his gaze was delicately constrained murder.

“Kevin. It’s been so long,” he said, as benevolent as a saint.           

On one side, Matt’s hands wrapped around one of Andrew’s wrists, at the same instant Wymack took a hold of the other. Andrew had been an inch out of his seat but they plus Renee’s sudden weight in his lap drove him back into it. He hadn’t realised that he had been moving. Her hand slapped over his mouth just in time.

Even through the haze, Andrew’s body said _move, react, protect_ , but his mouth still just wanted to laugh.

The Foxes were a silent, horrified mass in the midst of the clapping audience as Riko pulled Kevin to his feet and hugged his unwilling body. Andrew’s eyes followed the arc of Kevin’s hand as it rose and hovered at Riko’s side like he was too afraid to touch him but similarly afraid to appear that way.

Riko made no move to offer Neil an embrace when he let Kevin go. That was probably wise – Neil might have been pallid with something like fear, but his eyes were ice. There was no friendly welcome and no show of respect for his king, not even a cheap imitation of it. That wasn’t smart, but the instigator in Andrew got a shred of enjoyment out of it anyway.

“I feel lucky being in the presence of numbers one, two and three, all in one room. I feel like I can see into the future, and it’s these three men as Olympic medallists,” Kathy said when they were seated again, to still more yelping from the crowd. “Is it really true that none of you have spoken in all this time?”

“You can’t understand how difficult the upheaval of Kevin’s injury was for Kevin and I,” Riko said smoothly. “It many ways it was better for us to heal in our own ways, separately. And Kevin’s decision to stay with the Foxes has made it difficult to stay in touch – you can’t forget that the next time we’re on court together, we will be facing each other as rivals.”

Kathy looked a little beside herself. “The rabid fanatic in me can’t decide whether my heart is breaking or whether I’m just incredibly excited. But surely brotherhood comes before the competition, after all of these years?”

“Of course. But our connection, our brotherhood, that was built around Exy and our team. It was bound to change when Kevin walked away from us, no matter for the reason.”

“You must be so happy to see him back in the game, though,” Kathy said.

“I’m happy as long as he is happy,” Riko replied. “But I suspect that the happiness of simply being on the court will fade over time when the happiness of achieving doesn’t follow. I don’t want to see that happen.”

“You’re worried that Kevin won’t be happy if he can’t be as good as he was before?”

Kevin himself was a rigid wreck, staring sightlessly down at the audience like he couldn’t imagine being happy ever again. Neil was watching the exchange with narrowed eyes like the conversation was a tennis match and he was just waiting to jump in and spoil it.

Riko said, “I would never imply that Kevin wasn’t one of the best, but we can’t deny that what he showed last night wasn’t that. I’m worried that his obsession with proving to himself and everyone else is going to end up with him getting injured again. I don’t want to see him fall apart like that again. He’s not the player that he was, and I don’t want to hear that he has destroyed himself in a quest to achieve an impossible goal.”

The fake concern in his voice was sickening. Andrew’s blood was boiling, and he wasn’t the only one.

For the first time since Riko had stepped onto the stage, Neil spoke up to say, “If that’s how you regard one of your closest friends, then I’m glad I don’t count myself as one of them.”

“Oh, Nathaniel, I’m sorry! We always want to focus on the golden pair, but I didn’t mean to ignore you. And I know I don’t need to introduce the two of you to one another: Riko, it must have been a blow to lose someone of Nathaniel’s talent. He doesn’t quite have the…polish of the Ravens, but he does unmistakeably play like one.”

“I skipped the PR training,” Neil quipped with a casual wave that encompassed both Kevin and Riko, one struck dumb and the other darkly intent. It looked as though Riko had underestimated how fast this was going to go downhill with Neil involved.

“That was a very different situation, though. Nathaniel left us of his own volition, and while I can’t support that decision I can understand it. He would have made a valuable substitute player for us,” Riko said with a smile that itself whispered, _this is the strike._

Kathy blinked a little. “Not a starter?”

“Nathaniel doesn’t have a Raven temperament – as you may have noticed. More importantly, he has several flaws that made him an unlikely starter for us. The astute ones among you will have noticed how he struggled last night after taking a hit,” Riko said, each word a blow in and of itself. “The Ravens don’t give line up spots away, especially not to players who can’t cope with the physicality of the game.”

“I didn’t realise,” Kathy said.

“We worked very hard to make him the player we knew he could be and to break that fear, but he was resistant to our efforts and then decided to leave. He might talk up his transfer to Palmetto State, but the truth was that he was never going to make it in Evermore like we all thought he could have.”

Unexpectedly, Neil’s reaction was to laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, but it was genuine. “He’s right. I was never going to make it as a Raven. People like me can’t.”

“People like what?” Kathy asked, before Riko had a chance to speak.

“People who value the game over winning,” Neil said. “People who think of their teammates as just that rather than people to step on while they make their way to the top.”

“That’s – quite an accusation,” Kathy stuttered.

“Yes. But of course I’m grateful for the efforts the Ravens made towards making me the player I’m meant to be, and I hope the Foxes can continue their work,” Neil acknowledged, his voice as sweet as honey on the edge of the sword meant for Riko to fall on. “Perhaps Riko will tell us the reason why the Ravens decided to move districts this year of all years. I know you are all interested in hearing it.”

Riko shot Neil a look across the stage that would have struck a lesser man dead. As it was, Neil looked unbothered and in fine temper, heat blooming across his cheeks.

Riko said, “We put a lot of thought into the move, and even so we have received a great deal of criticism for it from both the north and south districts. The truth is that we are the reigning champions and our new district is subpar compared with the old one. We are hoping that a bit of competition will enliven the southern teams and encourage them to keep progressing.”

“You hope you can inspire the southern district the same way Kevin has the Foxes,” Kathy surmised.

“Yes. And we’re hoping that Kevin will see that his true value lies in taking a position with us at Edgar Allen over whatever dreams he has of coaxing a ragtag team like the Foxes however far they can make it,” Riko said. His tone implied that he didn’t think that that was very far at all. “His place may not truly be the court anymore, but he would be invaluable to us as a coach. Evermore is his home, and we want him to return.”

“Oh, that must be an incredibly difficult choice, Kevin. As much as I appreciate seeing what you have done with the Foxes, there must be part of you that yearns to be back in black,” Kathy said, starry-eyed.

“And is that really the best that you have to offer him? A coaching position? I can’t believe you think that would be enough,” Neil responded before Kevin had a chance to say anything. Not that he would have – he looked frozen at the idea that Riko really wanted him back in Evermore at all, that he’d said those words aloud.

“A Raven coach is far more valuable to Exy as a sport than a Fox striker,” Riko replied.

“Kevin might have been too polite to say it, but I’m not. I know exactly why the Ravens moved into this district, and it has nothing to do with inspiring anyone. You want to ensure that everyone knows that you and your cult are the best team in class 1, and that you deserve that number on your face. And what’s more, you want Kevin to come crawling back to take a coaching position when his entire life has been playing the game.

“If you really cared about the man you called your brother then you would give him a chance to show everyone what he can do. But no, you are here with the express purpose of cutting him off at the knees. It’s not Kevin’s drive we have to be worried about hurting him – it’s you and the people like you.”

The crowd was dead silent, and Kathy looked stunned by the words flooding from the tiny, quiet-seeming Fox striker she had been so keen to have on her show before. That lie had crumbled even faster than Andrew had thought it might. Neil took that opportunity to keep going, seemingly unaware of the way Kevin was clawing at his thigh on an angle that the cameras wouldn’t catch, and that the entire Fox team was staring up at him with their mouths hanging open.

“You’re right, though, actually. Kevin isn’t the player he was. He isn’t the player you made anymore, and when he masters playing with his non-dominant hand and with a developing team at his back against all new southern teams, he’ll be better than you ever could have made him. So what he and I both have to say is thank you for the opportunities, but you can take your whimpering about protecting Kevin from himself, and you can choke on it.”

“That’s one hell of a gauntlet you’re throwing down there, Nathaniel,” Kathy said, before Riko could stand up and make Neil pay for that comment like it looked like he wanted to. “There are seven weeks until you meet again on the court, and we’ll all be crossing off the days on our calendar. But these gentlemen have both let us hear their opinions, so now let us hear yours, Kevin; Palmetto, or Edgar Allen? Orange or black?”

“I already said it,” Kevin said, like Neil probably wasn’t losing the feeling in his fingers from how tightly Kevin was clutching him. “I am a Fox.”

The team cheered around Andrew, and Renee finally pulled her hand away from Andrew’s mouth while that cheering ignited the tension and set the rest of the crowd ablaze. She stayed motionless across his lap, her weight a grounding force and her eyes apologetic. Kathy gestured to the cameras to cut and the light that indicated that they were recording went dark.

The way that Neil grabbed at Kevin and hustled him off the stage wasn’t subtle, but it was effective. He didn’t even give Kathy time to fawn, leaving Riko to make nice instead.

Andrew got up as soon as Matt and Wymack released him, as soon as Renee slid off and removed herself from his reach.

“Don’t kill him,” Wymack said, a low warning. He looked like he’d just aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

“Which one?” Andrew asked with a tilt of his head.

“Any of them,” was Wymack’s recommendation. His brain was stuck on pause, on _protect_ , so the message scraped its way through. His clearest thought was, _that’s going to be trouble later_ , and he wasn’t sure that was what had just transpired on live television or himself.

Andrew went after them. He took the winding corridors behind the stage at a quick jog, dodging the aides who tried to waylay him. He doubted they would have made it far off of the stage before Riko had caught up with them, and he wouldn’t let them go without a fight.

Andrew was right about that, too. When he rounded another corner, he found that Riko had Neil pressed face-first into the wall with a heavy arm across his shoulder blades. Neil’s hands were clawed into the plaster but he wasn’t moving while Riko said something into the back of his neck. Andrew was too far away to hear exactly what, but Kevin’s dishwater-grey face suggested nothing friendly.

“Riko!” Andrew chirped. Riko let go of Neil instantly and stepped back, thinking that anyone who sounded that pleased to see him would be displeased to seeing him hurting his former teammate. By the time he realised that it was Andrew, Andrew was between him and Neil.

“Long time, no see,” Andrew said, drawing it out between his teeth. “Don’t touch my things, Riko. You know I don’t like it.”

He pushed his palm against Neil’s back, ushering him into Kevin and down the hall. They went without looking back, clutching each other like little lost lambs.

“You’ve gotten even cockier than when I last saw you,” Riko observed, watching them go before turning back to look Andrew up and down, evaluating and then dismissing what he found. “Do you miss having someone in your life to put you in the gutter?”

“I haven’t got out of it yet. But the company isn’t _so_ bad,” Andrew replied with a gesture between the two of them.

“You know, I don’t understand why of all people Kevin would follow _you_. What are you, other than an amateurish, useless orphan with no drive?”

“I’m also not that easy to offend. Nice try, though,” Andrew said, raising an eyebrow. “It must sting, right? I am all of those things, and he still left you behind for me, and a team of people just like me. And then Wesninski did exactly the same thing. You can say what you like about how they aren’t good enough, but I bet that really burns.”

Riko leaned close at the mention of Neil, his eyes taking on an unholy light. “He isn’t the same breed as Kevin. There were so many more things I could have said about him. There are all sorts of things you don’t know about him, either.”

“I’ve always thought it was better to leave a little mystery in the relationship, myself” Andrew cut back.

“Relationship? It must be difficult to live with the knowledge that I had him first.”

Andrew didn’t reach for a knife, because it wasn’t anything that he hadn’t expected. People like Riko didn’t surprise Andrew, because he’d grown up surrounded by them. He did step a little closer, though.

“I’d be careful what you admit to, king. You aren’t in your territory now, and you never know who might hear you,” he said, his grin still fixed firmly on his face. Then he turned, giving Riko his back at a distance of six inches – _I’m not afraid of you_ – to follow his teammates back down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this into two because it was getting long, so next: Inside Andrew's head again some more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit that got chopped and given its own chapter from the end of chapter 7.

Then, there were the times when he used the comedown to feel. Sometimes that was okay, because Andrew’s feelings were ghosts on the inside of his head, but sometimes – when the drugs stopped him from reacting with anything except bright, bright, bright – it was brutal. It was brutal, unfamiliar, and Andrew got lost in it too easily.

A smash broke Andrew out of the haze, bright pain jolting up his arm while someone yelped his name in the background. He looked down at his fist, blankly surprised to find his knuckles bloody. He was in their bedroom. He’d punched the window.

He didn’t even remember moving.

“Jesus,” Nicky said from right next to him, reaching for Andrew’s wrist. Andrew hit him rabbit-quick in the chest, hard enough that he backed off with both hands raised. “Andrew, _please_.”

“ _Fuck off_ ,” Andrew snarled, the brutality in his voice sending Nicky stumbling towards the bedroom door. This was Andrew sober, or near enough – so dangerous that even sweet Nicky whose only fault was persistence looked frightened of all that rage breaking free of the constraints that the drugs imposed.

He didn’t know. None of them did, because they were all too fucking stupid to figure out that under this Andrew was just – nothing. That anger was just the easiest thing to drag out of the void in his chest, the brightest echo. Nothing more than that. Just whatever Andrew had left.

“Please let me help you,” Nicky said, and he probably didn’t just mean the fact that Andrew was bleeding all over the floor. He sounded like he was about to cry.

Andrew ignored him, raising his hand to his face to examine it. The pain was distant but hot enough that his brain was starting to fire again. His knuckles were split, but not badly. If he’d hit the window with no screen, his whole forearm would be shredded. He tried to think that that was a good thing and couldn’t quite make the thought concrete.

“You can’t,” Andrew said, because he didn’t lie. “Get out.”

For a moment, he thought that Nicky would do as he was told. Then he squared his jaw and said, “No.”

“No?” Andrew asked, his voice going almost mild. “But Nicky, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” Nicky said, a tear tracking down his jaw. “We don’t have to talk.”

He took himself to his bed and folded himself into the corner of it. Andrew found it easy enough to tune out the sounds of his sniffling while he forced himself through the events of today.

Kevin, white-faced and horrified. Neil, with his bladed words and the way he’d frozen against the wall when Riko had held him there. Riko himself and his nasty little digs, designed to draw blood. The hands of his teammates on Andrew, checking him. Dan stopping him in the hall afterwards and saying that they would sort this out together, as though she knew anything about any of them.

“Andrew,” Nicky said after a while, an unmoving lump in the shadows. He sounded hoarse, wiped out. Andrew had lost time and his gut was starting to churn threateningly with that _too long, too long_ sensation. He didn’t bother to respond.

“Do I need to get Bee?” Nicky asked.

“No,” Andrew responded at last. “You can get Neil though.”

“Neil?” Nicky asked, completely mystified, before thinking better of asking for a clarification. “Okay.”

He rolled off of his bed, puppy-like again now that he had a purpose that wasn’t waiting for Andrew to stop being Andrew. He must have gone straight there, because it wasn’t long before there was a set of soft footfalls in the hall and Neil let himself into the room.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Neil hardly more than a shadow in the doorway. He was Neil again, out of the dark, elegant clothes from the set and back in his plain colours, all the traces of Nathaniel wiped off of his face. The crossover between fabrication and reality was so blurry that Andrew doubted even Neil knew what was the truth anymore.   He leant against the doorframe, signalling that he was content to wait, but Andrew didn’t miss the glance he flicked to Andrew’s flexing hand.

“So _now_ Nathaniel Wesninski has nothing to say,” Andrew said.

The corner of Neil’s mouth quirked a little. “It’s no fun when I know you won’t listen.”

“I only wouldn’t listen to advice, and that’s because I don’t take advice from men who try to sign their death warrants on live television,” Andrew replied. “I warned you that Riko wanted to kill you.”

“You said that you’d make sure that didn’t happen. I seem recall that we made a deal.”

“That wasn’t an invitation to make it more difficult by opening your big fucking mouth,” Andrew said. There was the irritation, after all – not quite rage, not quite not. The temptation to just finish Neil off himself and save some trouble later made the skin of Andrew’s palms itch.

“I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you,” Neil said with a shrug. He walked forward and inserted himself neatly in Andrew’s space like he had no idea that Andrew was absently plotting his murder.

“Kevin already told us all about how we can expect Riko to retaliate over that little display. Do you think it’s going to be worth it?” Andrew asked. “Do you think you can afford what it’s going to cost?”

“I know him. I know how he thinks.”

“So you’ve decided to provoke him,” Andrew said. “I suspect that you can’t predict him as well as you think you can. But I suppose we’ll see. Either way, you can kick that little long-distance running habit of yours and keep to the Tower for the next few days.”

“I was planning on it. I’m not going to make it that easy for Riko,” Neil replied, crossing his arms. That, as far as Andrew was concerned, was a blatant fucking lie. Neil seemed to be truly invested in not making anything easy for anyone, but he was certainly putting the effort into stealing from Riko any restraint that would have made it a difficult choice to kill Neil and have done.

“Truth for a truth,” Andrew said, “What did he say when he had you against that wall?”

Neil’s face went blank; Andrew had caught him by surprise. It almost felt good. He asked, “Does it matter?”

“Only because you won’t tell me.”

“You already owe me – plenty.”

“Then what’s one more? Tell me,” Andrew said. Neil looked back at him, his eyes penetrating. When he opened his mouth Andrew could tell that it wasn’t going to be another denial – this was going to be the truth.

He said, “Stop.” Neil blew his breath out between his teeth, puzzlement creeping over his face in place of resolution.

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter,” Andrew went on. “But I can’t think of a single reason why you didn’t even reach for this.” His fingers left trails of darkening blood over Neil’s grey shirt, marking an indistinct silhouette of the blade underneath it. “So what’s the point?”

“It’s a recent thing,” Neil said. “Riko would have killed me if I’d had one, before.”

Andrew was not impressed. “So you’ve been carrying a weapon that you don’t even know how to use, all this time.”

“I didn’t say I don’t know how to use it. But it’s more of a reminder to me than a weapon. Just in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not my weapon of choice.”

Andrew could have said any number of things about Neil’s weapon of choice, most of which were how one’s mouth was only useful for starting fights, not finishing them. “A reminder of what?”

“Of what it can do to me, if I’m not careful.”

Andrew felt his eyebrow creep up. “Word to the wise – I think you need a bit more reminding, Wesninski.”

Neil scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

“Kevin says that you’re afraid of small spaces. Riko implied that you’re frightened of being hurt. I don’t think either of them are wrong, but I don’t know they’re right either,” Andrew said. “That’s the truth I want to know.”

For a moment he thought that Neil was going to refuse to answer. He looked like he was debating turning and leaving, whether their delicate détente was worth it. Andrew didn’t reach out to hold him in place because he wasn’t that kind of man – Neil needed an anchor to hold him here, not a pair of shackles. Not least because Neil was the sort who would tear himself apart to get free.

Eventually he swallowed and said, “When I was thirteen they put me on the court at Evermore with a team of people and effectively gave them free rein to hurt me however they liked whenever I made a mistake. It didn’t take all that long until I broke and made a run for the doors. But it’s a court, so they were locked, and nothing I said or did would make them let me out. It’s the first thing I think of when I take a hit now – am I going to be able to run?”

His pallor was back from this morning, like his words were leaching the blood out of him, but he was so shut down that his voice showed none of it. “There are only so many times you can be locked in with people who want to hurt you before you start seeing the echoes of it everywhere. Riko thinks it’s like a trigger on a gun that he’s just dying to turn on me, and I’m not sure that he’s wrong.”

Andrew didn’t say anything. He wasn’t surprised by the ways that people liked to hurt each other, and he wouldn’t pretend to be for Neil’s benefit. It would have been a waste, anyway – apparently looking back at Andrew’s emotionless face was enough to make Neil relax. Figured – a man in pain afraid of pity.

“Truth for a truth,” Neil said after a little while, an invocation of whatever game they were apparently playing. “What are you afraid of?”

“Heights,” Andrew answered. Neil gave him unimpressed look, which Andrew returned until the expression faded and became something else entirely. Andrew didn’t like that – he hooked his bloodied hand in the neck of Neil’s shirt and pulled enough that Neil stopped.

“Either you talk to Betsy, or I’ll solve your problem myself,” Andrew said, “and you won’t like it.”

“I won’t talk to the shrink,” Neil said, his lip curling. “I don’t have anything to say to her.”

“It doesn’t pay to be frightened of the truth, Neil,” Andrew recommended. “So is it door number two, then?”

“You can’t fix me.”

“I’m not interested in your fear. I’m interested in your functionality.”

“You don’t give a shit about Exy,” Neil snapped. He sounded like poor, deluded Kevin when he went on one of his rants at Andrew, right down to the tone – like it was personally offensive to him that Andrew didn’t care, even focussed as he was on his own issues.

“You’re right. But if you can’t play then you can’t uphold your end of our deal. And Neil – Kevin can’t stop you from being afraid, either.” For a start, Kevin had less of an idea of how to be unafraid than Neil did.

“I didn’t think he could. No one can.” That first part wasn’t a lie, which was pleasant – it was always painful to deal with the deluded.

Andrew didn’t care about whether or not Neil was afraid. He didn’t really care about why, either. He only cared that he could make Neil do what he needed anyway.

He asked, “Option one, or option two? I won’t ask again.”

They were both valid options, but Neil obviously didn’t agree, and didn’t like being backed into a corner into the bargain. He stared back in silence for a long moment, Andrew’s bloodied knuckles still pressed against the hollow of his throat, before he said, “Two.”

Andrew felt the edge of his mouth curve up. “Good. Tonight, nine o’clock on the dot, you meet me here. Until then, you can get out.”

Neil broke Andrew’s grip and turned at the dismissal, but he paused in the doorway. He didn’t turn except for the twist of his head, so the wash of light from the smashed window behind Andrew caught him over the line of his cheek and jaw, turning his visible eye almost colourless. It wasn’t so he could see Andrew – it was so Andrew could see him.

“Andrew, truth,” he said. “Is it worth it?”

“What, exactly?” There was any number of things that he could be referring to, but Andrew did have a feeling he knew what Neil meant.

“A hour or so of sobriety. Or half a game, I guess. Worth the pain?” Right on the money, apparently. Andrew’s brain might have been borderline broken, but his gut instinct was still good.

“Ouch,” he said, using a finger to spin the bottle of pills in his pocket so they rattled. “Is it really worth asking if you know the answer?”

“Same way it was worth asking what Riko said to me when you could already guess,” Neil said. “I suppose I just want to know what really makes you tick under all of that. He said that he missed seeing me like that, by the way. Against the wall and desperate. That he couldn’t wait until he would again.”

He gave Andrew a side view of that little smirk that Andrew was really starting to fucking hate, a dare to break him if you thought you could. “Take your pills, Andrew. Pretty sure you won’t be able to keep any of those promises in prison.”

Then he left, which was lucky for him. Not least because Andrew was really looking forward to taking that dare. On the other hand, Andrew always appreciated knowing when he hit a nerve, even if Neil’s tongue was sharper than a blade between the ribs.

 _Nine o’clock on the dot_. Andrew didn’t lie, and Neil wasn’t going to like it – but Andrew was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has commented, I am trying to reply but communication with humans is not my strong point. I really appreciate reading them though <3
> 
> Next: Andrew is correct.


	9. Chapter 9

At eight-forty-five, Neil abandoned the Spanish homework he hadn’t been able to concentrate on in favour of a little brutal self-examination in the bathroom mirror.

Neil didn’t care for his face, because it was his father’s. The more Neil could excise of Nathan Wesninski from his life the better, but he couldn’t do much about his looks. His mother had employed dye and coloured contacts to hide him, but she was dead and Neil gained nothing from hiding now.

The same went for the scars. Neil hated them, changed out away from the others now that he was allowed to, but here in the mirror he catalogued all of them: the deep slash low across his right hip and the imprint of a hot iron on his shoulder, courtesy of his father; the myriad of white lines from Riko’s knife, fading to nothing, and the raw new scars on his back; the human bite mark over his shoulder, that he didn’t even remember receiving. Neil’s body was an open book that he didn’t want anyone reading.

Neil didn’t bother to pretend like Riko couldn’t arrange to have him killed inside the tower if he liked – lying to yourself never worked out that well anyway. It wasn’t Riko’s ability to have it done that Neil had been denying, though. It didn’t matter that Neil had a collection of scars from Riko, and plenty of things which hadn’t scarred anything but the inside of his head. He still hadn’t really thought that Riko would follow through on what he’d threatened the day Neil had left the Nest right up until this morning.

Andrew had been right, and that burned a little.

Neil and Andrew had an understanding, but that apparently didn’t mean that they weren’t going to try to break each other, even so. Neil hadn’t been sure, standing in front of Castle Evermore with blood still clotting under his clothes, that he would ever be capable of that kind of viciousness again, but Andrew seemed to be intent on drawing it out of him.

When he emerged out of the bathroom, Matt, Seth and Allison were gathered in the main room. Matt looked up from where he was hunched over his laptop when he noticed Neil.

“Hey,” he said, “Dan went out to get some drinks, said she would get something for you and Renee. Sound good?”

Seth looked up from his phone to interject, “We’re going out.” Allison didn’t look perturbed by the statement, which meant that the two of them had decided to ignore Neil’s warnings from earlier about staying in tonight. From Matt’s expression, he had had no idea about Seth’s apparent plans, and he wasn’t pleased about it either.

“You’re joking,” Matt said, flicking a look from Seth’s gaze to Neil like he was trying to make a point without Neil noticing. Matt had a lot of characteristics that Neil liked and admired, but subtlety wasn’t one of them.

“No,” was Seth’s typical response. He was already back to texting. Neil wasn't known for his charm and charisma, but even he found Seth terribly abrasive. When Matt looked to Neil, Neil just shrugged. He’d said his piece – he was the one here in real danger, but if they wanted to put themselves in danger for a drink then that was their decision, and Neil wouldn’t bother trying to change their minds.

“I’ve got – a thing,” Neil said, unsure whether it was wise to say exactly what. Unfortunately it just made it sound as though he was about to ignore his own advice.

“Even the freshman made plans,” Allison said, unimpressed. “Are you going to handcuff him to make him stay here too, Boyd?”

“With Andrew.” That was worse – even Allison looked at him at that, though she laughed a little.

“He’s a slow learner, then. I don’t know why I’m surprised,” she said, with a haughty shake of her hair. “We won’t bother waiting up this time.”

“We aren’t going off campus,” Neil said, although for all he knew Andrew could be planning on taking him anywhere. He hoped not Columbia: he hadn’t had a chance yet to wash the taste of crackers out of his mouth all the way.

“Neil, that’s-” Matt started, before stopping himself. He didn’t need to say, _a terrible idea_ , because Neil knew that. He was just going to do it anyway.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve got to go,” he said, and excused himself before Matt could make a more compelling argument.

Andrew was waiting for him outside the cousins’ suite, leaning against the wall. Kevin and the others were nowhere in sight.

“They staying in?” Neil asked, tilting his head at the door to indicate the other three. Andrew ignored this in favour of turning on his heel and walking off. There was no indication that he wanted Neil to follow him, but Neil rolled his eyes and did so anyway.

Andrew led him down the stairs, further than Neil had ever gone before. He had been vaguely aware that there were levels below ground in Fox Tower, but he hadn’t ever felt even the slightest urge to go there. He wondered vaguely why Andrew seemed so familiar with them, a decent distraction from his dislike of places that weren’t easy to get out of. They walked along a hall not much different from the living areas upstairs – painted neutral colours, scrubby grey carpet, lots of closed doors. The main difference was how quiet it was without a horde of athletes organising their Saturday nights.

Andrew stopped at a door at the end of the hall and pushed it open. The room beyond it was well-lit and spacious, with a few stacks of chairs and desks pushed back from the centre of the room.

“I’m wondering what you’re playing at,” Neil said, his voice surprisingly even.

“Maybe you should have asked that before you picked this option,” Andrew replied with a grin, waving a hand to indicate that Neil go in ahead of him.

Neil’s brain told him to expect any number of things from Andrew – a solid weight against his back, a hit, for a start. He walked through even so, because he’d signed up for this, and Andrew could do any number of things short of hurting him that Neil would prefer over speaking to Betsy.

As soon as Neil cleared the arc of it, the door slammed shut behind him, followed by the unmistakeable noise of the lock clicking into place.

Neil spun. “ _Andrew!_ ”

No response. Already feeling his heart rate accelerating, Neil reached to tug at the doorknob, which didn’t move. On closer inspection, it became obvious that it had been tampered with so it couldn’t be unlocked from the inside.

“He is thorough,” a voice said from behind him.

Neil whirled around again, breath caught in his lungs.

Renee had always made him uncomfortable, but she had never looked overtly threatening until right now. She was perched up on a table to the side, toying with the cross that always hung around her neck. Her customary smile was gone. Sitting next to her on the table, glinting ominously under the fluorescents, was a knife.

There wasn’t anywhere to run now. Riko was right – this was the trigger of the gun, but right now Renee was the one holding the weapon. That didn’t make Neil feel any better.

“What do you want?” Neil asked, words from a script that Renee didn’t know, that Neil’s brain vomited up without any prompting.

“Just to help you,” she replied, though it wasn’t very convincing coupled with the flat look in her eyes. “Andrew thinks you aren’t frightened enough of him for this to work.”

“You can’t help me,” Neil said. When she dropped off of the edge of the table he took a step backwards, right up against the door.

She smiled a little. “Andrew said you were afraid of me, but I didn’t really believe him. You hide it well. It’s the unknown, isn’t it? You can’t quite put your finger on what it is about me, but you know there’s something else there. You could ask, you know.”

Neil didn’t, because there was no way of phrasing it other than, _why am I afraid of you?_ That was an awful question, and he couldn’t make himself say it aloud. Thankfully for him, she spoke again after watching him search for the right words.

“How I am most of the time, it’s not a front. My religion, my God, they are what saved me and what keep me safe. But I’m a born again, Neil – I did many terrible things, things most people would find unforgiveable. Maybe they’re right. You can’t be forgiven if you cannot repent, and I’m still not sorry to have done some of them,” she said, slow and calm. Her hand rested inches from the handle of the knife, but she didn’t pick it up. Neil couldn’t take his eyes off of it to examine Renee’s face, but he knew truth when he heard it.

“So, you see, Andrew and I aren’t really all that different,” she continued with a sweet little shrug.

“Andrew has never cared about forgiveness in his entire life,” Neil said, his voice rough.

“Maybe, maybe not. I agree he’s a little more black and white with his beliefs,” she said. “I trust him. I know you do to, to a point. Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing in this room right now.”

“I’m regretting it,” Neil ground out. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s not what _I’m_ going to do. We’re going to spar. Do you know how?”

“For a given definition.” He knew how to fight, life or death. He knew how to make someone bleed, courtesy of his father, even if the feel of a knife in his hand was heavy and awful with the memory of it. That would have to be enough. “What’s the point?”

“Two birds, one stone.” Renee shrugged. “You learn how not to freeze up, and you practice being able to protect yourself into the bargain.”

“That sounds…simplistic.”

“It is. If you hadn’t noticed, that’s how Andrew works. It doesn’t mean it won’t be hard,” she said as she took a step forward, “And it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t expect it to hurt. I’m a dirty fighter, so don’t think I’ll hold back.”

“Fine,” Neil said. Renee pointed a spot on the floor in the middle of the room, away from the walls. She let him walk up to it before doing so herself, so they were within arms reach of each other.

Despite her words, she did start easy, clearly gauging his abilities. Her blocks were total and her strikes were brutal, but there was a clear pattern for Neil to follow. His forearms were going to be blue and green tomorrow when he managed to turn them aside, and every one she landed on his body nearly threw him back a step. He got past her guard a few times, but not without feeling like that was a test, too – he tried to make them count.

They were close to the same height, her perhaps a little taller, but Neil was heavier and quicker. It should have been an even match, but from the beginning Neil knew it wasn’t – she was better than him, and she wasn’t afraid into the bargain. He flinched with the hits, not resigned enough, whereas she barely seemed to feel them.

“You’re good,” Renee said approvingly after a little bit of back and forth, each of them giving a step or two and retaking it.

“But?”

She smiled. “But not good enough to win.”

She didn’t hesitate to prove that to him in the next move and a half, catching his free wrist and swinging him into the wall with impressive strength. Only Neil’s quick turn of his head kept him from a bloodied nose, and it didn’t stop him from having the wind knocked from him.

Either Renee was as observant as Andrew was, or he had told her, because this was it – Neil, all out of breath, unable to fight his way free with his arm twisted up behind his back. He fought until his shoulder screamed in agony but Renee was strong, stronger than him. She had him completely at her mercy.

He was gulping, airless, the plain wall in front of him hazing grey and then black.

Then he was on his knees, forehead to the wall and Renee out of his reach, saying his name.

He’d lost time. He was about to lose more, if he didn’t get himself under control.

“Nathaniel,” Renee said, her voice twisting into his father’s inside Neil’s skull. The anger was another trigger, one that pulled him back from the brink. “You should have gone for the knife.”

“That’s not what it’s for,” Neil snarled, choking on it.

“I said that once to Andrew, you know. Those knives he carries – they were mine. I told him that they were a symbol of something, and he said that they had a purpose other than that. We were both right, in our ways, but you and Andrew are the same. It’s not a symbol when you need it to save your life. It needs to be a weapon,” she said. “Now, get up.”

Any niceties on Renee’s part died then and there. She put him against the wall or on the floor over and over again. If he didn’t freeze she made him get back to his feet with a gentle prompt. If he did she said his true name until he did anyway, everything wiped out of his head except _don’t-fucking-die-Nathaniel._

Finally when he pushed himself up off the carpet on trembling arms and found himself unable to get his feet under him, he said, “I yield.”

She made a considering noise, said, “I don’t care,” and then kicked him over onto his back, kneeling down on his chest in one fluid movement. Somehow while he’d been down she had made it to the table and back, but the first he knew of it was the delicate press of that knife against the trembling skin of his throat.

“You and I are from the same world. No one there is going to hear you say that you give up and then stop hurting you. They’re just going to hurt you worse,” she said, breathing a little hard but not panting like Neil. His heart was pounding so violently that he was surprised that she wasn’t dislodged by the rapid beating of it under her knee. “Either you get good enough to win, or you die. Seeing as I don’t want you to die, we’re going to keep doing this until you win.”

“I’m not going to be able to beat you,” Neil rushed out on a breath, clinging to a semblance of control. “Take that _off of me_.”

“Neil, you’re going to have to make me.” She sounded sorry, in a way, but the challenge there was unmistakeable.

Even in pain and terrified, Neil wasn’t very good at saying no to a dare.

He threw an arm out, hard enough to throw her off balance but not to dislodge her weight. With the space he had made for himself he grabbed Renee’s wrist crushingly tight and pushed until the point of the blade lifted away from his skin. He was bleeding underneath it – it had nicked him when Renee’s weight had shifted.

 _Impasse_. Neil couldn’t get free while every muscle in his body screamed at him, but Renee couldn’t break his grip of iron either. She looked down at him and smiled a little, cutting the frigid ice of her eyes.

“Good,” she said, and pushed off so that she could sit next to him on the floor instead. Neil didn’t move – he doubted that he could, at this point. They’d been going for hours, maybe, though Neil had lost too much of it to blinding panic that only more pain could bring him out of. He coughed, lungs making a point of the fact that he hadn’t been able to breathe with Renee on top of him, and touched a hand to the cut on his neck.

“It’s not bad,” Renee volunteered, ignoring the look he shot her. She was right, though – it was a nick. The feel of blood on his skin was enough though. He held his finger to the spot until it clotted underneath, wiping at the trickle of blood and most likely smearing it badly rather than actually removing it. Renee watched him do it without speaking, her level gaze as heavy as a stone.

The door lock clicked open, loud enough in the silence to make them both jerk. Neil wasn’t surprised when it admitted Andrew, who looked as unruffled and cheerful as ever despite the late hour. Usually he would be back down on the ground again, ready to sleep like he was every night Neil and Kevin practiced late, but apparently not tonight. Neil wasn’t sure whether he should be gratified or not – mostly he was just angry.

“Renee, you’re needed upstairs,” he said. “Better hurry. It’s a crisis.”

She stood instantly, leaving Neil sprawled across the floor. She stopped next to Andrew in the doorway to say something to him, though it was quiet enough that Neil couldn’t make it out. Looking at the two of them standing next to each other was a strange experience – for the first time he could consciously see what his instincts had been telling him, and what Renee had meant when she had said that she and Andrew were alike. There was something similar in their faces when Renee lost the smile.

Andrew left the door open behind him as he walked forward to stand over Neil.

“I hate you,” Neil said, making sure every ugly inch of it showed in his voice.

“Good,” Andrew replied. “Maybe not as much as you’re about to hate yourself, though.”

“What?” Neil asked, pushing himself on one hand. Looking up at Andrew from the ground was getting to be familiar, he thought vaguely as he tried to pick Andrew’s meaning from his expression. It was a wasted effort; as ever, Andrew’s face when he was high told him nothing.

Andrew didn’t let him wonder for long. “Seth’s dead.”

Neil’s still-pounding heart dropped like a stone. “ _Fuck_.”

“They found him in a bathroom at one of the local clubs – overdose, they’re saying. I think you and I both know that it isn’t quite that simple,” Andrew continued when it became clear that Neil didn’t have anything to say but that. “Oh Neil, don’t look at me like that. Welcome to the starting line up! He was always going to pick off the weakest beast in the herd. We’re both surprised that it wasn’t you.”

“Andrew,” Neil said, a little numb with the shock of it. Even with Andrew’s bargained protection Neil had always thought the first blow would be against Neil himself. He’d warned the others out some sense of responsibility but he hadn’t really thought that it would be them who suffered when he was right here. In the world of Neil’s father, there was no point making examples. Neil had forgotten for a moment that any notion of honour amongst criminals didn’t extend to mad men like Riko Moriyama.

Neil didn’t like Seth, but he hadn’t wanted him dead.

“You didn’t deny that provoking him was worth it. Are you still sure about that?”

What Kevin had said to him on the court that first night they had met there came back to him: _Why didn’t you just run?_ At the time Neil hadn’t really even considered it, knowing that his place was here, on a court – any would do – at Kevin’s side, and away from Riko. Now, prone and reeking of the same panic triggered over and over today sparking through every worn-thin nerve, he wondered if maybe that wasn’t a better option.

He would die, but at least it would be quick and clean at the hands of one of Kengo’s people, and not whatever horror Riko could dream up for him.

Andrew seemed to see those thoughts cross his face, because he said, “You’re staying here.”

“I can’t,” Neil said before thinking about it.

“Don’t waste my time with pointless fear when you were halfway to committing suicide by psychopath this morning. You _can._ And you will,” Andrew replied. “Once you’ve summoned up whatever spine you have left, you might resign yourself to that. Until then-”

He pulled something from his pocket and threw it so it bounced off Neil’s chest. Somehow Neil managed to catch it before it could fly away, clutching it in his aching hand. Body-warm metal pricked his clenching palm, unfamiliar until he opened his fist to look at the key.

“I’ve seen the way you hold yours. Never had any before this?” Andrew asked, though he went on before Neil could reply. “Not every door is unlockable. But some are.”

“What’s it for?” Neil summoned up, clenching it into his fist. The teeth dug into his palm, a clearer, cleaner bite than _Nathaniel_.

Andrew’s look was direly unimpressed. “Figure it out, runner.”

It wasn’t a suite key, which would have matched Neil’s in brand, or a car key, so it wasn’t much of a process of elimination. “The house in Columbia.”

Andrew smiled. “Ding ding! We have a winner. Maybe you aren’t as stupid as you look.”

Neil didn’t have time to ask the question burning in his gut _– why –_ because at that moment the door swung wide again, admitting Wymack. He took in the tableau – Neil still sprawled on the floor, his closed fist clutched to his chest, and Andrew standing over him still – with one whip-quick glance. “What are you two idiots doing down here?”

Andrew didn’t say anything, but his expression was an amused prompt to Neil.

“He’s – helping,” Neil managed. It sounded like it was through his teeth, but it was passable enough.

“You’re bleeding,” Wymack returned. “Also, last time I checked the two of you hated each other. So I’m going to ask again: what are you two idiots doing down here?”

“He isn’t lying. I’m _helping_ ,” Andrew said, showing all of his teeth. “You want a striker that isn’t crippled by fear, right? Well, I’m going to give you one. Just don’t complain if he gets a little dented in the process.”

“A little – Jesus! He’s going to be bruised all over,” Wymack said, finally taking a closer look at the skin that Neil had exposed by his t-shirt. His arms were already marking up under the fluorescents.

“That was Renee,” Andrew explained, with a flippant gesture that encompassed Neil’s whole self.

“If this turns into a repeat of Matt,” Wymack began threateningly. Andrew interrupted him with a rude noise. “God, I cannot deal with you tonight. I don’t have time to care about whatever issues you two have right now. One of your teammates is dead. Andrew, you need to worry about your little pack, and you better stay the hell away from the others. Get upstairs. Now.”

Andrew went. Neil pushed himself upright very slowly, and somehow kept his feet once he got there. Wymack watched him and sighed, looking brutally tired now that the irritation had faded from his face.

“The shit that you assholes do to each other,” he said, though it was clear he wanted to say, _do to yourselves._ He was probably right – Neil had agreed to this. Also, Neil didn’t think that Wymack just meant him. Wymack was out of the loop – Neil might have told the others to expect that Riko would do something but Wymack hadn’t been there for that. As far as he was concerned, Seth’s death was tragic stupidity, an accident. Neil was willing to let him labour under that delusion right now, but that couldn’t go on forever.

Neil swallowed. Allison wasn’t stupid enough to think that this was a coincidence. None of them were. He was walking out of this room and into a world where he was the direct cause of someone else dying, and he owed all of them better than pretending to be ignorant of it.

“It’s fine,” he said, because there was nothing else.

“We’ll deal with this later. Luckily for you, we’re suspending practice for the beginning of the week. That means no extra practices with Kevin, either,” Wymack said. “Stay out of trouble. Please.”

Neil couldn’t think up a reason to protest while his legs threatened every second to give out on him. He let Wymack lead him upstairs, gritting his teeth the whole way, clutching the key in his fist until it nearly drew blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Renee, my daughter, doling out important life advice while beating the hell out of people <3 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Wymack finally gets his explanation.


	10. Chapter 10

Renee’s phone call on Sunday morning bought Wymack back to Fox Tower to deal with the aftermath of another vicious fight. He hadn’t slept: Abby was much more the comforting type and had stayed with Allison, for all that Allison herself wasn’t easily comforted, but he’d held his own kind of vigil in Abby’s kitchen with a glass of scotch at his elbow.  

Wymack was the bloody-minded sort who would never, ever give up on his team, but that didn’t mean that sometimes they didn’t give up on him. He had thought once that it might get easier, but now he was glad that it didn’t, not least because he didn’t want to be the kind of man who wasn’t changed by kids dying.

Dan’s bravado, Renee’s forgiveness and smile, Kevin taking on the entire world – that had to be enough for him to keep going. And if it wasn’t quite enough to stop him from being pissed off this morning, then it was probably righteous anger.

Matt was still spitting fire when he got there, wiping blood from a split eyebrow, but he wouldn’t say a word as to what they’d been fighting over. Not that he needed to; Andrew’ drugged cheer and sharp tongue were hard to stand on a good day, never mind when you were grieving. Since Matt had survived his trip to Columbia he had been on a pretty even keel with Andrew’s lot, respectful and respected, and Wymack didn’t like to see the regression.

Kevin and Nicky had taken some initiative and confined Andrew to their suite by that point. If they hadn’t Dan probably would have taken justice into her own hands and had done with him by the look on her face.

Wymack sent Matt, Dan and Renee to Abby’s in Matt’s truck, and a sullen Neil whose bruised face had been at least part of the reason behind the brawl into his room to pack his things. Then he stuck his head into the cousins’ suite. One look at Nicky’s miserable face and Aaron’s usual dead-eyed calm suddenly had him seething again, which he didn’t work hard to cover up.

“Get him. Now,” he snapped, harsh enough to make Nicky scatter to do as he ordered.

Andrew and Kevin emerged together. Kevin had the good sense to look wary, whereas Andrew of course looked the same as he almost always did. He also looked much less worse for wear than Matt, just red marks which probably wouldn’t even bruise. Matt could fight thanks to his mother, but Andrew was ungodly fast and vicious into the bargain, and he evidently hadn’t held back.

Wymack took a step back outside of the suite and pointed to the ground in front of him. When Andrew stepped up to put himself there, he pulled the door closed behind him right in Kevin’s face.

“I told you to stay away from them,” Wymack said.

“But Coach, Dan has all these ideas about how we should be together as a real team, like she has any idea about the meaning of the word ‘real’. I was just doing as she asked – maybe next time she’ll rethink that.”

“I think right now she’s rethinking every time she defended our decision to keep you, and Kevin for that matter.”

“You know I didn’t start it,” Andrew said.

“Not starting it and not taking the first swing aren’t the same thing,” Wymack informed him, as though Andrew didn’t know that. Andrew offered him a broad shrug in response.

“You _know_ I can’t help this,” Andrew said, putting a thumb to his smiling mouth.

“Maybe,” Wymack conceded, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll accept you trading blows with other people on this team. Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll quite happily shred the contracts of every single one of you little shits, and I’ll save Kevin’s for last.”

“No, you won’t,” was Andrew’s response. He was mostly right, though Wymack’s fingers itched a little to do just that. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them – it was that his life would be a hell of a lot easier without this shit.

“Andrew, I’m asking you.”

“What are you asking for, exactly? So that I know what I’m refusing to do.”

“I’m asking you to be careful of making any mistakes that you can’t come back from,” Wymack said, which was a bit more truth than probably either of them had expected from him, given Andrew’s smile. They both knew Wymack didn’t just mean the upperclassmen – there was Kevin, and Riko, and Neil, and Andrew’s own family and issues into the bargain.

Wymack had known from the beginning that Andrew’s involvement in anything complicated it tenfold, but he hadn’t anticipated the way someone so purportedly apathetic would throw himself into some things the same way the two ex-Ravens would. For all the talk and the rumours, Wymack knew control when he saw it, and he also knew when he saw the ways that that control could waver.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Andrew replied, though something in his expression had shifted. Evaluating, maybe. They had an understanding, the two of them, but they still learnt new things about one another all the time.

“Well, let’s not change that now,” Wymack said, just as a door down the hall opened to admit Neil with his bag thrown over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“You’re leaving too?” Andrew asked, leaning back against the door.

“Neil is staying with me for a few days,” Wymack replied for him, making sure Andrew read from his expression, _because I don’t trust you with him, you shit._

“Hm,” Andrew returned, tilting his head as he watched Neil. “Be careful, runner.”

Neil snarled back something under his breath, his entire face twisting. Wymack threw him his cars keys so he could let himself in and he kept going down the hall and out of sight. Andrew watched him the entire way.

“Andrew. Be smart,” Wymack reminded him, enough to earn him Andrew’s version of a snarl himself – all teeth and turned-up lips and glittering eyes.

Monday morning found Abby in Wymack’s kitchen, having given over her house to the upperclassmen. That wasn’t at all unusual, but Abby’s melancholy quiet certainly was. She was tough, like they all were, but unlike the others she wasn’t so afraid to let her show of good cheer slip. Today that show was nowhere in evidence, and underneath it she looked exhausted, dark rings heavy around her heavy-lashed eyes.

Wymack put a cup of coffee under her nose before sitting next to her at the table. “Holding up?”

He wasn’t much good at anything but gruff but for Abby he did try.

She let out a long sigh. “Yes. Just – you know.”

He did know. Seth’s cremation was this afternoon, and Seth’s mother had signed off on everything without even a word to them. Apparently she’d been absently cruel and careless to Allison on the phone, which had meant that Dan had rung him in a fury to rant about it last night. She hadn’t been surprised – she never was, about things like that.

Wymack hadn’t bothered with the cousins and Kevin since Sunday morning, knowing that between the four of them they probably wouldn’t have scrounged up any fellow-feeling for their teammates by now or remorse for that stupid fight. Neil’s apathy was unsurprising, but he was still being driven off of the couch early enough to wake an early riser like Wymack each morning by whatever the inside of his head could conjure up.

All of them were making a decent attempt at falling apart, but thankfully Wymack was used to that.

“They’ll be okay. You know that,” he said, cupping his hand over one of hers on the table for a second. It was enough to make her look up and attempt a smile for him, sweetly crooked with the pain. Like him, Abby would never resign herself to what happened to their team, and Wymack would be grateful his entire life for her presence with them.

“I don’t think Allison will play this Friday. I don’t want to convince her, either – it’s not fair. She shouldn’t _have_ to,” she said, all in a rush, like he needed convincing.

“You know I agree,” Wymack responded. “You also know that if she doesn’t we’re totally screwed.”

“Well, I hope you’re prepared to make that happen,” Abby said, nearly snappish.

“You know I am. That’s my job,” he reminded her. “Just like yours is just to look after their health, okay? Let me worry about what happens on the court. You just get her through this afternoon.”

Abby nodded, and then put both hands to her face for a long moment. She wasn’t crying – she wouldn’t in front of him. That didn’t stop him from wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulders and resting his chin on the top of her bowed head until she could pull her fingers away again and square herself up.

“You’re going to come round tonight?” she asked as he let her go, draining her coffee in one swig. She stood and took the emptied mug to the dishwasher to put it away.

“Yeah,” he replied, allowing himself the brief luxury of watching her while she wasn’t watching him. He also let her catch him doing so just for the tiny flash of a smile he got in return.

Nothing might ever come of it, but it was still nice sometimes to shelter that flame and let it grow a little. He saw her out before returning to his office, almost tripping over Neil in the living room where he’d set himself with the coffee table as a desk, his body folded into the gap between it and the couch. Wymack hadn’t even heard him get back from his run.

He spent the day fielding phone calls and sending emails, time dragging along until he looked up to the clock and saw it was six already. With a quiet curse he threw on his jacket and grabbed his keys. As he opened the door he turned to find Neil at his heels, a quiet shadow. “Yes?”

“I’m coming,” he replied, affecting an innocent look that was completely wasted on Wymack. Wymack didn’t bother to ask why, because he had a feeling he was going to find out sooner rather than later. He didn’t say anything else as they got into the car and drove over to Abby’s house, and Neil seemed similarly inclined. He’d been quiet all week, which wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but there was something in his thoughtful silence, something in the timing too, that unsettled Wymack in a way he couldn’t quite pin down.

When they arrived, Dan, Matt and Renee were sitting at the kitchen table going over a team list and a court map of positions. Matt had a wicked bruise down the side of his face that had come up overnight, but he seemed unbothered by it as he and Dan bickered gently. Abby came in from the living room to greet them with a strained smile and coffee before joining Wymack at the table. Neil hovered at Matt’s shoulder, looking down at the list in silence.

“This is almost unworkable,” Dan said, sounding frustrated.

Wymack had been dedicating plenty of thought to this himself, so he pulled the sheet over and started comparing his thoughts with hers. He and Dan worked the same way – bull through what you couldn’t work around – which made working with her a pleasure. The problem itself was an awful headache though, especially as they were trying to talk around the fact that there was no guarantee that Allison would make it on Friday.

“You’ll have to make me a defensive sub,” Renee volunteered eventually, quiet in the silence they had sunk into for a moment while they all thought. “Then if you play as a striker sub, Dan, we might be able to make it.”

“That means leaving Andrew in goal for the whole game,” Matt mused, scrawling on the pad at Dan’s elbow. He was engaged in their conversation but Wymack could see that he was making a scratchy nonsense pattern around the edge of the page. Typical college athlete; any other day it would have made Wymack smile.

“I didn’t think he could,” Neil asked, the first unprompted thing he had said since they arrived. “How’s he going to keep playing if he’s sick?”

“It’s not whether he can. It’s whether he will,” Dan told him, her mouth still twisted enough to indicate her continued anger at Andrew. “Coach?”

“I can ask,” he replied, which by their faces they all assumed was code for making a deal. They were wrong, but that was fine – one day they might realise, but they probably wouldn’t. It wasn’t like Andrew made it particularly easy. “That is a terrible, shitty line up.”

“Yeah. But it’s what we’ve got,” Dan returned, leaning back in her seat with half a smile. “Workable?”

“Workable,” Wymack replied with a nod, drawing the pad of paper towards himself to write while she talked through how they could make it so.

Eventually he looked up and realised that Neil had gone missing at some point or another, the spot where he had been leaning against the wall vacated. The other four were deep in conversation, so he himself stood and headed towards the lounge where he knew Allison was.

It was only because he was listening that he heard the sounds of the two of them speaking. He leaned against the wall outside the door, slightly ashamed of himself for listening in but not enough to stop.

“Free hit,” Neil whispered to her, only just loud enough for Wymack to make out. “You want one?”

Allison said back, a little louder, “If I want one, I’ll take one whether it’s free or not.”

That sounded like Allison, fire and brimstone under the kind of face that adorned magazine covers. Wymack had signed her because he’d seen the fight in her that came from surviving pain, for all he himself had had to argue for her because of her privileged background. She kept making him proud, too.

“I’m sorry,” Neil said after a beat. Wymack blinked a little.

“No you aren’t,” was Allison’s immediate response. “You aren’t fucking sorry. Whether you are right or not, it wasn’t-”

“I knew. I knew I shouldn’t. It’s my fault,” Neil rushed out, interrupting her.

“If you believe that, you’re a fucking idiot. There’s only person to blame here-”

Wymack moved at last into the doorway, not liking where this was going. “Are you two alright?”

Allison hadn’t left her place on the couch, but she was leaning forwards over her knees. Her eyes were dull as stone, but there was something familiarly sharp in the twist of her mouth. Neil was standing in the centre of the room with his hands by his sides, looking at Allison with something like surprise on his face.

“Coach,” Allison said after a second, slowly leaning back. “We’re fine. Neil and I were just talking about the game on Friday.”

“Allison,” Wymack started.

She cut him off with a hard, “No.”

Then she looked at Neil and said, “You better make it fucking worth it then, Wesninski.”

Neil gazed back at her before giving her a sharp nod. Now he looked like Raven on the doorstep of their court, looking at Wymack with challenge in his eyes, right down to the bruises. This was undoubtedly the man who had dared to make a deal with the yakuza and seemingly been successful.

“I will if you will,” he replied, before turning to Wymack. “Coach, I might go for a jog back to your place.”

Wymack opened his mouth to tell him to stay and then realised there wasn’t much point. “Fine. Don’t get run over.”

On Tuesday morning Wymack got up while it was still pitch black outside his window, punch drunk on too little sleep. He’d been abstaining from the liquor lullaby he liked to indulge in while Neil was in his home, but he wished he’d let that self-control slip enough to get an extra hour of sleep.

Wymack put his head into the living room to check on his houseguest. Neil was still out to it for once, curled under the borrowed blanket so that just his ruffled hair and one side of his face were visible. He looked much younger when he slept, not least because his mouth was closed.

He left with the understanding that as peaceful as Neil looked at the moment, if this day started like all the others he would wake within a half hour and bolt. Wymack put the coffee maker on, poured himself a cup, and then started cooking.

“Coach?” came from behind him not much later, sleep-rough.

“Sit,” Wymack said, pointing to the table. Neil sloped over to the chair, looking more like a little kid than a top athlete in oversized sweatpants and the bright orange Fox hoodie pulled up enough to show just how badly it clashed with his hair.

Wymack dropped a plate of food in of Neil and sat across from him with his own. He gave Neil time to put some in his mouth before saying, “So, are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“With Allison?” Neil asked, stalling for time like it wasn’t immediately obvious to him what Wymack meant.

“Yes, with Allison.”

“It’s my fault,” Neil replied, quietly. Exactly what he’d said to Allison, and now Wymack was getting the picture. He felt himself go still.

“What?”

“Seth. You think after everything that that was an accident?” he asked, hard as stone. “I told you that Riko would try to make my life difficult. After Saturday – I thought he’d try to get to me. I didn’t…I didn’t think anyone else would get involved.”

“And you told this theory to Allison,” Wymack surmised.

“She needs someone to fight,” Neil said, before he checked himself. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” Wymack said, and his voice sounded forbidding even to him - evidently Neil had gotten back from his run in time to hear about Abby's doubts. He clearly wasn't the only eavesdropper here. “Neil, Seth overdosed before. It’s not outside the realms of possibility that this is a coincidence. Sometimes things are just bad luck.”

“Not in my world,” Neil replied, “And Andrew agrees with me.”

Wymack wanted to yell but didn’t by some miracle of self-control. “Andrew wasn’t even there. And neither were you. And even if this crazy theory is right, it wouldn’t be your fault – it would be on Riko.”

Which had been Allison’s message too, he saw now. Neil’s expression said that he didn’t agree, but he also looked unwilling to say as much.

“You don’t have any proof that you are right, so lets go on like you aren’t. Either way, the results are the same and we have to deal with them. That being said, thank you for the opportunity to remind you to keep your mouth shut when it comes to Riko from now on,” Wymack continued. “I understand why you said what you did on Kathy’s show, but you can’t afford to let your temper get the better of you.”

Neil looked down at his hands for a second, then back. “I know.”

“This thing with Andrew – is it really a good idea?” Wymack asked, indicating the bruises that Renee had given him, and then the living room, because Neil's shitty sleep was an issue all its own. “Because if you need me to make him back off…”

“It’s fine, Coach,” he responded. “It’s…not exactly enjoyable, but it might work.”

Wymack wanted to ask what it was that made Neil so afraid, hear it in his own words rather than Kevin’s or Riko’s, but he didn’t need to. Wymack had been familiar with that kind of trauma-induced fear before he’d had anything to do with Kevin, but the parallels were obvious. Whether or not it was fixable, especially using Andrew’s kind of rough-and-ready method, remained to be seen. However, Neil was functional enough right now, knew enough ways to work around himself, and could make his own decisions even if they were stupid and dangerous. Wymack would maintain that everything else was above his pay grade until they made it otherwise.

The fact that that might not be very far away did cross his mind, though.

Because it was apparently his catchphrase for the week – the year, maybe – he found himself saying, “Be smart. We can’t afford any mistakes right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Andrew gets a phone call and everyone ignores Wymack's advice.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Iris (@exyfexyfoxes) for helping me beat this into shape :D

Wednesday morning practice hadn’t started well, and it really didn’t improve from there either.

Neil had enough of a sixth sense to know that when Andrew said, “Oh. No, Coach,” that things were about to get messy for the team. He hadn’t quite anticipated the look that Andrew shot him after hanging up the phone for the third time, deathly dark as he regained his smile, right before he covered it with one hand and started to laugh.

His self-destructive outburst and his threat of taking himself off of the team permanently in the face of Kevin’s attempt to make him stay was a little alarming to watch. To Neil, a person dealing out threats was recognisable – someone who broke himself for the sole purpose of one-upping an individual one who even Neil thought of as obsessive was something else entirely.

Aaron’s unwilling admission that the person at the other end of the line was the one who had told him that he and Andrew were brothers pretty much ruined any chance of them having a normal practice, even after Andrew had bolted. Dan kept them moving and interrupted the awkward silences before they could become oppressive, but it was still a relief when they were released to change out.

Nicky drove Neil, Kevin and Aaron back to the dorm in total silence. Kevin was still steaming silently, and Aaron was his usual unapproachable self, to the point where even Nicky had gone quiet rather than attempt being cheerful.

“What the hell,” Neil muttered as they came across Andrew sitting at the curb halfway between the car and the Tower. He had changed out of his Exy uniform back into his personal uniform of black on black. He ground out his cigarette in the gutter by his feet before looking up at them.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked, his tone frigid like that would have any effect on Andrew besides encouraging him.

Nicky shot him a dirty look before crouching down beside Andrew. “You okay?”

“You ever get tired of asking stupid questions?” Andrew responded with his usual head-tilt.

“I’m just worried about you.”

“That’s boring. Neil, I need to borrow you,” Andrew said, pushing up from the ground at last. Neil gave him a dubious look that Andrew laughed at. “No need to look at me like that. It’s just a talk.”

Neil cut a quick glance between the faces of the others before shrugging his yes. Nicky looked curious, Kevin irate and Aaron bored, but none of them looked like Neil should be worried. “Now?”

“Yes now,” Andrew said, and then started off towards the dorm without another word. Neil followed at his heels, ignoring the others when they went up the building while Neil and Andrew headed downstairs again.

The hallway looked considerably more foreboding in the light of the other night. Neil was pretty sure that Renee wasn’t capable of time-jumping and therefore wouldn’t be waiting for him again, but he still made Andrew walk in first.

“What, you aren’t going to lock it this time?” Neil asked, turning back towards the door when Andrew closed it. Andrew looked over his shoulder with a smile.

“I don’t need to,” he said. “If you want me to, though…”

“That’s fine,” Neil replied. As far as he was aware, if Andrew locked it they would be stuck down here. That wasn’t how he was hoping to spend the night. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I was hoping that you would tell me,” Andrew said.

Neil didn’t say anything. The air had suddenly turned a little electric between them. This was dangerous ground, and Neil had no map or landmarks to navigate by other than gut instinct, which told him to keep his mouth shut lest it get him in trouble. That wasn’t Neil’s usual instinct, but Andrew wasn’t like anyone else Neil ever dealt with, either.

“Can you guess what Higgins was asking me about? Or here’s a better question; do you already know?” Andrew asked, stepping up to within arm’s reach of Neil. He was light on the balls of his feet, the elegant line of his arms at his sides at odds with the twisted iron through his shoulders. It was the stance that had identified him as a fighter from the moment he and Neil met.

“Of course I don’t know,” Neil replied. “All I know is that apparently he’s the one who introduced you and Aaron, and Aaron was the one who told us that.”

“Introduced. That’s a funny word. Not really applicable, though. Did you know that the honourable pig mistook Aaron for me?”

“You’re identical twins. I’m guessing that that sometimes happens.”

“But it didn’t. Because as far as either of us knew, we weren’t twins.”

“That sounds like it must have been an awkward misunderstanding,” Neil said after a moment. Andrew went still.

“I don’t like that word,” he said.

“Misunderstanding?”

Andrew gave him a thumbs up, though it looked forced – whatever that word meant to him, it was breaking through the drugs again the same way Higgins’ call had.

“So how does that work? Some kind of separated-at-birth deal? Because the news didn’t mention anything like that. They were too busy going on about the attempted murders.”

“You’re getting everything right tonight! Yes, the woman who gave birth to us decided to give up both children to the system. Then she had a change of heart, but she could only handle one baby. She took Aaron back, and I grew up a foster child. Funny, right?”

Andrew’s eyes said he did think it was funny. A one-word trigger could wipe his smile, but the implication that his mother had abandoned him in favour of Aaron couldn’t touch him. Neil couldn’t believe that, though. “Were you jealous? That he was the one that got kept?”

“What’s there to be jealous of? She beat him and got him hooked on drugs. The only thing that concerns me is how after all of that, he is still stupid enough to care that she’s dead.”

“He’s human,” Neil said.

“I despise him,” Andrew said, offhandedly. “Not as much as he does me, though. He says I ruined his life, like she hadn’t already done that for him.”

“Because you were there? That seems a little harsh.”

“No. Because I was the one who killed her.”

Time slowed. “What?”

“You heard me,” Andrew replied, his eyes glittering.

“Tilda Minyard died in a car accident.”

“She died in a car wreck,” Andrew said – no, corrected. “I warned her what would happen if she laid a hand on him. She really should have listened.”

Neil could only blink at him – his mother hadn’t exactly been winning any awards, but she died trying to protect Neil. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of a mother for whom stopping meant death. The thought made his hands feel sticky with blood.

“You know what Higgins really wanted to ask me about, though? I’ll give you a hint – it involves the name Spear,” Andrew continued, and then his hands were around Neil’s throat.

Neil’s head collided with the wall in his attempt to step backwards and away, but that did nothing other than turn his vision black faster. Andrew was terribly strong and determined; the weight of his forearms against Neil’s chest gave him enough leverage to hold Neil there.

“I think it’s a funny coincidence that I hear that name twice in such a short amount of time. Don’t you think so?”

It didn’t matter. Neil couldn’t think, at all. All he could do was stand there and be choked until his knees buckled, and even then Andrew didn’t let go for a long moment. When he did Neil slid down the wall, trying to blink the spots out of his greying vision.

Andrew bent down and grasped Neil’s chin hard, pulling his head up so their eyes met. “I think you know more than you’re letting on. All those little threats…so you tell me; what is it that Riko knows about the Spears?”

“I don’t know anything other than that name,” Neil gasped out.

“I think you’re lying,” Andrew said as he experimentally prodded at the agonising arch of Neil’s exposed throat.

Neil hadn’t realised, despite the warnings, just how far his trust had extended until this moment – until Andrew made him regret it. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to stay, how much he might value Andrew’s protection. This wasn’t a promise to break Neil’s fear – this was just Andrew trying to break Neil himself. Nothing was worth letting himself being hurt like this, over and over.

“Fuck you,” he snarled, and punched Andrew hard enough that his head snapped back. It sent him back a pace, enough that Neil had enough room to stand himself and go on the offensive. He followed up the punch with a quick rabbit punch to Andrew’s ribs, and then gave ground as Andrew drove his own blow straight into Neil’s sternum.

Andrew was fast, more practiced and much more cruel than Neil, with almost no reaction to pain. However, Neil was good at surviving, and also desperate. Andrew got him again in the belly, and then cracked him across the face hard enough that he went down again. The pain was blinding – it took Neil’s vision a second to clear, and by that time Andrew was kneeling over him, reaching for his neck again.

Neil might have been in pain and suddenly bleeding out of his nose, mouth and maybe an eye, but he was still quick – desperate – enough to grab Andrew’s arm before his hand could land and pull him off balance so he fell down on top of Neil.

Neil rolled them. When the movement finished, he was on top with the knife Andrew wore on his left forearm pressed hard into Andrew’s groin where his femoral artery sat close under the skin. That was something his father had taught him in passing – in passing not because it wasn’t important, but because the Butcher of Baltimore didn’t approve of injuring someone in a way that killed them that quick.

It was their first meeting on the court in reverse. Now Andrew was the one holding Neil’s other arm where he was leaning his weight, though his grip was crushingly strong where Neil’s had been a warning. He could tip Neil over in a second, but they were too evenly matched for either of them to be sure whether Neil could end all of this just as quickly.

Neil spat, sending blood splattering across the carpet in an impressive arc. He couldn’t quite tell if it was from his mouth itself where the inside of his lip had split against his teeth or from his nose. It mostly missed Andrew except for a delicate spatter across the pale skin of his upper arm, in the gap between the bands he wore and his t-shirt. He didn’t look bothered by it.

Neil tugged at Andrew’s grip until he released it, a careful motion that put the both of them at an equal disadvantage.

“You know, when my father sent me to the Ravens, I was relieved,” Neil said, his voice clogged and brutal. He made sure that Andrew was looking before pulling the collar of his shirt across and down to expose the unmistakeably shaped scar from a hot iron. “I thought it meant no more of this. I thought I was getting away from everything terrible that had happened to me. I didn’t realise I was walking into a pit of vipers.”

“Skip to the end,” Andrew deadpanned. Neil had to stop himself from wringing his throat.

“I’m saying, don’t make now the same as then,” Neil went on once he’d restrained himself. “Not least because you won’t like it if you do.”

“I don’t care about your feelings,” Andrew crooned. “I already told you that.”

“No. You keep saying you don’t care about anything. But you know what they say about those who protest too much, right? You can’t pretend like you don’t give a shit and then come after me over some stupid coincidence connected to a name I can’t even put a face to.

“Is this about you? Because no one who cared that much would have made a deal with Kevin in the first place, never mind me,” Neil said, and then stopped. This wasn’t about Andrew. Andrew had already inadvertently informed Neil of his real issue with all of this. “It’s about Aaron.”

Andrew looked back at him without speaking, which was enough of a confirmation.

“I know I’m right. So are you going to tell me what Aaron has to do with the name Spear?”

“It makes me very angry when you prove that you aren’t as stupid as I think you are,” Andrew remarked. “There’s no connection. And there won’t be as long as I’m alive to make sure there isn’t.”

“So this is all for nothing then,” Neil said, punctuating that statement by pressing the knife tighter against Andrew so it caught against the seam of his jeans.

“Maybe not nothing, if I finally got you to pull a weapon. Maybe you have a little bit of spine after all,” Andrew replied. Neil stared down at him for a long moment before pulling himself to his feet. The knife he dropped to Andrew’s side, though it landed flat. It was a shame – Neil couldn’t think of any ways that would improve Andrew better than a stab wound.

“Don’t pretend that this is part of any kind of deal,” he warned.

“Don’t pretend like you’re the only person I might make a promise,” Andrew responded, which was an answer in and of itself to Neil’s other question – how Andrew could talk about his own brother like that but still do all of this for him. Those deals were everything to him.

Looking down at Andrew, Renee’s words from the other day came back to him. _You and I are from the same world. No one there is going to hear you say that you give up and then stop hurting you. They’re just going to hurt you worse._ She was right – Neil had yielded to Andrew, and so had given him a length of rope to make a noose with. Better to take it back before he ended up hung.

“Well, I hope those ones are worth it, because ours is done,” Neil replied. “You’ll get what you want. I’ll make sure that Kevin stays here if he starts to dissolve again. He can be yours, but I won’t be.”

“And if Riko kills you?”

“Then it’s not my fucking problem anymore, is it? Maybe if you stopped being a useless piece of shit on the court then he might stay for you.”

Andrew didn’t bother to respond to that statement, which was lucky, because Neil was sick of hearing him lying to himself. He asked, “And in return you want what, exactly?”

“Nothing. No deals. I don’t want anything from you.”

“I won’t let you do anything for me for free,” Andrew said.

Neil wanted to say, _you can owe me one_. He knew that Andrew wouldn’t accept that, though – tit for tat was what he lived his life by. There was no room in that creed for gifts, if you could really refer to Kevin’s continued presence as a gift.

“You already gave me the key,” Neil reminded him. “Don’t tell me you think Kevin is worth more than a ten-buck copy that’ll let me into your house whenever I like. Hope your insurance policy is good.”

He took a step back so that he wasn’t looming over Andrew anymore, which he seemed to take as permission to stand. Once Andrew regained his feet, he turned and walked out without a glance at Neil. He left the door swinging behind him.

As soon as Neil heard the stairwell door swing close he crouched, dropped his spinning head between his knees, and clutched at his hair for a long moment while his stomach rolled.

Eventually, once he was sure he wasn’t about to be violently unwell, Neil pulled his phone out and dialled Wymack’s number.

“What do you want?” he answered, typically brisk.

“I need you to pick me up.”

There was a long pause at the other end. “Do I want to ask why?”

“Because if you don’t I’m going to kill Andrew, and I’m not going to bother making it look like an accident,” Neil said, dead serious.

“I’ll be there in ten,” Wymack said eventually. Neil could hear the sound of him picking up his keys even as he said it.

“I’ll be waiting,” Neil said, and hung up. He attempted to sniff up the blood still oozing from his nose before giving it up as a bad job. There was no mirror to examine the damage and he wasn’t about to walk through the dorms covered in blood, so he had to settle for pulling up his hood to get out to the parking lot. It was empty enough that he could stand safe beneath the floodlight and close his eyes while he waited.

Wymack’s car pulled up alongside him. The passenger door popped and Wymack leant out to look up at him. His expression flashed through several emotions that Neil couldn’t quite determine before settling on anger.

“This doesn’t look like helping to me,” he snarled. Neil couldn’t quite stop his flinch, but he mostly kept it under wraps. At thirteen, he’d been terrified of his father’s anger, but he had been taught to be afraid of enough things since then that his skills at repressing were better than they had any right to be. This was just something else to force down.

“You’ll have to take that up with him,” Neil said, dropping into the car seat. His entire body protested the rough treatment.

“I will be, don’t you worry about that. Do I need to call Abby?”

“It’s just bruising,” Neil said, though he pulled down the window shade to examine himself in the tiny mirror on the back of it. He was lucky he hadn’t run into anyone on the way out here, especially any of his teammates – he looked like a walking advertisement for a gory horror film.

“It’s bleeding, everywhere,” Wymack responded. He reached into the backseat and pulled through a dark coloured t-shirt that he stuffed into Neil’s hand. “Blot it. I don’t want to have to replace my upholstery because of you.”

It had mostly clotted by the time they made it to Wymack’s apartment, which meant Neil was forced to sit and not wince much while Wymack attempted to wipe it away with gauze and warm water. The only saving grace of the ordeal was that Wymack didn’t make him talk through it. By the time he had finished Neil’s nose and eye had started to swell. Wymack sent him through to the living room with an ice pack wrapped in a dishcloth.

Neil sat cross-legged on the couch and held it up close to his face while he decided which part needed it the most. He eventually decided on his eye – his nose and mouth were useful, but not as much as binocular vision.

Wymack joined him with a bottle of scotch, two glasses, and a chair from the kitchen table that he plunked down across from Neil. The glasses were put on the table and filled, one much more generously than the other, before he slid the smaller on across to Neil and took his own to sit.

“I seem to recall that yesterday I told you to be smart. This doesn’t look like anything like that,” Wymack said with a wave that encompassed Neil’s entire body.

“You’re right,” Neil said, because it was better than forcing himself to say, _I really fucked myself over_.

“I usually love to hear those words, but looking at you I find that the satisfaction just isn’t quite there,” Wymack said, “I warned him that he was about to make a mistake. Am I right?”

Neil mused for a moment. “It depends. Does the fact that I probably won’t be able to look at him for the next year without losing my temper count?”

“I think that’s probably a smarter move than whatever it was that the two of you planned,” Wymack answered. “You know, we have a team psychiatrist for a reason. She’s very good at her job.”

Neil hummed non-committedly at that. Wymack looked at him a long moment before coming to a decision. He said, “For that reason, I’m going to make a condition of your continued inclusion on the starting line that you attend weekly sessions with her from now on until we mutually decide that it isn’t necessary.”

“You wouldn’t bench me,” Neil said, “You’ll put yourself below the minimum number of players. The Foxes will be finished.”

Wymack gave him a long look. “I want to tell you a secret, okay?”

“Uh – okay?”

“I care a lot about Exy, Neil. But I care about it a lot less than I care about the wellbeing of my players,” he said. “If you let Andrew keep pushing you, you risk him breaking you permanently. I don’t trust him with you. Betsy is very good at what she does, and she can help you. You just need to agree to let her.”

Neil just looked at him, knowing his face said everything that he thought about Betsy, and probably a bit about Wymack caring as well.

Wymack went on, “If you can’t believe that I care, then at least believe this – you can’t go on the way you have been. If you aren’t careful you’ll be useless on the court, so you may as well try something different.”

“If our season ends like that, everything is over anyway,” Neil said before he could stop himself. Wymack froze for a second, and then gave him a prompting look. “The deal I made with the Moriyamas – it wasn’t just that I could play for whatever team I wanted. The bargain relies on me _having_ a professional career. Other than being able to say I’m Raven-trained, I’m an amateur. If my college career crashes out, then I have nothing to offer to any team. Our deal is voided, and they’ll probably kill me outright. I don’t know that losing this season would be enough, but I can’t risk that.”

“Sounds like a good reason to do as I say then,” Wymack recommended. At Neil’s huff, he said, “Neil. You don’t have to pretend that she’s going to change your life. That’s not how it works. I’m saying that you do have to do a set number of mandatory sessions with her if you want to stay on my line, in the interest of me not having to deal with a gibbering wreck that some mobsters want to assassinate.”

“I’m not a gibbering wreck,” Neil snapped.

“Not yet, you aren’t. But between Andrew and the fact that Riko outed you with a fear of taking hits on Saturday, you might be.”

Neil had forgotten that – he’d been so caught up in the fact that their argument was personal that he hadn’t thought about it being broadcast nationally. Up until their game against Breckenridge Neil hadn’t been sure how far he would need to be pushed, and the answer had been disconcerting – one dirty hit and he had cracked. It was hard enough playing against a team who wanted to beat you figuratively, without them also wanting to literally beat you. Neil knew that from experience.

“You are easily one of the best players on the team at the moment, and he just exposed a major weakness of yours. Do you really think that the other teams aren’t going to try and take advantage of that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Neil decided after a moment. “I can play. That won’t change.”

“You can say that, but it won’t matter on the court when your mind shuts down,” Wymack said. “Neil. One more time. _Be smart_.”

“I don’t like being backed into a corner.”

“Think of it as taking the path of least resistance. Also, Betsy won’t see you ruled out of playing because of a broken face. She’s a bit more mild-mannered than the people you’ve involved so far.”

“They involved themselves.”

“You let them. So let me involve myself now, seeing as that hasn’t worked so well for you. I at least only have your best interest at heart.”

“Fine.” Wymack was right. All he had to do was a set number of sessions. There was nothing that warm-eyed and patient Betsy Dobson could do to him other than trick him into saying things he wasn’t prepared to say, and Neil was getting good at talking in circles.

Wymack sat back in his chair and took a healthy swig from his glass. “I’d thank you for seeing things my way, but I know that isn’t what you’re thinking right now. Here, take that ice pack off again for a bit.”

When he pulled it away, Wymack hissed a little through his teeth. “How hard did he hit you, exactly?”

“Not hard enough that I won’t be able to play on Friday.” Neil couldn’t see out of his eye, but swelling went down eventually. He had played with worse.

“You sound like Kevin.”

“Cut from the same cloth,” Neil said with a shrug.

“I don’t think so. Shaped the same way, maybe. But they can’t have you anymore,” Wymack said suddenly. “You’re ours. You are a Fox.”

One man couldn’t stop them from taking Neil if they really wanted, from making him disappear like he had never even existed. But the certainty in his tone – Neil had been told any number of times exactly who he belonged to. It was different from Wymack’s tongue; for the first time it sounded like belong _with_ rather than belong _to_.

That was a dangerous fantasy, though. It wasn’t one Neil could afford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Kevin is a dick, and the team plays Belmonte.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more accurate preview for this chapter would probably be 'everyone is a dick, and the team plays Belmonte'.
> 
> Thanks again to Iris (exyfexyfoxes) for the beta :)

They hadn’t been back in the room long when there was a light tap at the door. Sensing that Kevin wasn’t going to get up, Nicky went to see whom it was. Kevin looked up at the sound of Renee’s quiet voice.

“Is Andrew in?” she asked.

“No, he went somewhere with Neil. Said he wanted to talk to him,” Nicky said with a shrug. “What do you need him for?”

Renee smiled and evaded the question. “Do you mind if I wait for him here?”

Nicky stepped aside and let her in before returning to do dishes at the sink. Renee walked over and sat cross-legged on the ground, close to Kevin’s desk where he’d been absently looking up stats on his laptop. Nicky seemed pleased to have a friendly presence in the suite; he chatted away to Renee over his shoulder as he cleaned like he hadn’t talked for days.

Renee was a satellite, in a way. She made a family for herself with the upperclassmen, but she also somehow managed to earn Andrew’s prickly regard. In Kevin’s more open-minded moments, he thought that it was a shame that she didn’t use that as a uniting force for the team. He also knew she wouldn’t, because Renee had picked a side, and would never condone using force to push the team together anyway.

Months ago, Kevin wouldn’t have been able to understand Renee at all. It was only through continued exposure to Andrew that he was starting to recognise their shared traits. In the same way, Kevin understood Neil now better thanks to the distance that Neil was intent on keeping between them than he had when they spent every day together.

It stung, a little. Part of Kevin had thought that the day Neil arrived they would fall in together, even though the two of them had never been paired. It was always Riko-and-Kevin and Nathaniel-and-Jean, combined into the four of them with their matching tattoos and their crushing domination in scrimmages even amongst the Ravens themselves. Kevin missed that – Andrew was good but refused to believe at all in his ability, refused to find joy or satisfaction in it. Kevin missed the feral enjoyment of just being _best_.

That being said, he was nowhere near the best now. He had to settle for the new start, and for Neil’s presence late at night on the court.

A half-hour into Renee’s visit, the door swung open to admit Andrew, who glanced absently around the room before perching up on his desk and opening the window. Nicky fell immediately into silence, huddling further down into the beanbag chair he had moved to. Renee watched Andrew light a cigarette without moving or speaking, her expression evaluating. Andrew didn’t give her a chance to speak first.

“If you say the word ‘mistake’…” Andrew warned her, which was when Kevin noticed the distinctive red mark on his jaw from where someone had punched him.

“Mm. You know I wouldn’t,” Renee replied, as soft as ever.

“What – did _Neil_ do that?” Kevin asked, because though a better explanation wouldn’t come to mind, the idea of Neil throwing himself into a physical fight was baffling. Not because he _couldn’t_ , but because he generally preferred to do it verbally.

“He has a very good hook,” Renee remarked. “Not much killer instinct though.”

“That’s why he looks worse than I do.” Andrew grinned around the cigarette, smoke leaking from between his teeth.

“But who won?” Renee asked.

That killed the smile with alacrity. Neil had a frustrating ability to get under your skin subtly enough that you didn’t notice it until hours later, and Kevin had already witnessed it in action on Andrew. Andrew’s silence said multitudes. He spent half his time wishing that Neil wouldn’t, and the other half that he could have the same effect on Andrew himself.

“Does anyone really win when people like you and I fight?” Andrew asked after a moment, almost rhetorically. “Oh, well. It isn’t much of a gift, but you can have him if you want, Renee.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I suppose Kevin will have to pretend to be responsible for once. What do you think, Day?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Kevin said.

“He says that he doesn’t want to make any more deals with me. I’ll let him stay, but if Riko comes for him again then I won’t intervene,” Andrew replied. “So, does that mean you will? You are the one who wants him here.”

There was no way for Kevin to say no, just like there was no way that he could say yes. Kevin wasn’t that kind of man, for a start. But he was swimming with sharks here, the two of them with their matching dark eyes, while the third was off nursing his wounds and no doubt cursing all three of them.

“You know I can’t,” Kevin told Andrew, and swallowed when Andrew laughed.

Renee took pity on him. “It’s fine, Kevin. I’ll speak with him.”

“I hope you didn’t damage him,” Kevin blustered at Andrew to cover his relief. “We have a game this week.”

Andrew turned his smile on Kevin, all teeth. “You never manage to surprise me, Kevin. Do you truly care about nothing else?”

“I care that you don’t kill him,” Kevin said, irritation frothing in his gut.

Andrew tilted his head. “Did you tell Riko that, too? It would explain a lot.”

There was no dealing with him like this. Kevin stood and left for the bedroom without another word, abruptly wishing that the day could be done. Distance was the only way that Kevin could accept Andrew’s particular brand of truthfulness without it stinging him.

He was right. That was always the worst part.

Neil stayed at Wymack’s that night, and turned up for practice on Thursday morning with a wicked black eye and the most frigid expression Kevin had seen him wear in weeks. He ignored Nicky’s gasp over his face to fold in with Matt and Dan, who both looked angry enough to have already heard about Neil and Andrew’s fight.

Neil didn’t say a word to Kevin throughout the practice. Neil’s precision and natural speed had served him well in his transition between positions, but he was more used to passing than running. He made mistakes, and Kevin usually corrected them even if he got a snapped response, but the silence was unnerving enough that he gave up pretty quickly.

Even if Kevin would never admit it outside of his own head, the mere fact of Neil’s presence was a balm most days. Today wasn’t one of them.

When Andrew took Kevin to the court that night, he parked alongside Wymack’s car in the lot. Kevin blinked at it in confusion.

“Is Coach still here?”

“I doubt it,” Andrew replied, getting out on the other side. “Hurry up.”

What Andrew had evidently guessed was that Neil was sitting on the bench waiting for them. He was already geared up, his helmet glinting orange under the lights at his side. He looked between the two of them, his expression bored, before saying to Kevin in French, “Hurry up.”

Kevin was used to Neil on the court at night; he was as demanding as Kevin was of the others during the day. Tonight, though, he was a thousand times more intent, and a thousand times more brutal. When it was just the two of them, Neil played as a backliner. They drilled precision, Neil’s finely honed instincts against Kevin’s badly hampered technical mastery.

Unsurprisingly, Neil usually won even with an undefended goal. Tonight, he knocked Kevin’s racquet out of his hands and snarled at him too.

“Fuck off,” Kevin growled the third time he had to retrieve his racquet as well as the ball where Neil had flung it.

“Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?” Neil mocked. “Don’t worry, Day. I know it isn’t anything you aren’t already telling yourself.”

He was right. That didn’t make it any better – every criticism Neil threw at him was valid. That didn’t mean it wasn’t cruel though.

“You sound like Riko,” Kevin snapped back before he thought it through. The next shot he took on the empty goal hit its target, but that was only because Neil had come to a stop. When Kevin turned back to look, he took a hit to the ankles which dropped him so hard he rolled. He found himself flat on the court floor looking up at Nathaniel Wesninski, the cold-eyed son of the Butcher.

“Do I?” he asked, deceptively mild. “Do I really?”

The answer, of course, was no. Riko’s cruelty rarely had a basis in truth. In fact, that had only been once – that last night, when Kevin had walked away with a shattered hand.

He sounded like Andrew, the truth made into a blade on his tongue.

After a moment Nathaniel – Neil – stepped back and allowed Kevin to regain his feet. When Kevin threw Andrew a glance, it didn’t look as though he had even moved a muscle from his place on the bench.

“Your guard dog knows I won’t hurt you permanently,” Neil sneered. “Set up the first drill.”

“Can you even aim like that?” Kevin asked, gesturing at Neil’s face.

“I can’t be any worse than you,” Neil replied, copying the gesture with a rude, overdramatic twist. It reminded him of practice in the nest, Jean and Neil making fun in French at Riko and Kevin’s expense. They always had limited patience for dramatics like the trained synchronicity that Riko favoured.

Kevin swallowed that observation down and set up the cones in their row.

Neil said, apropos of nothing, “Coach is making me see the shrink. He threatened to bench me.”

The two of them had a shared distaste for mental health professionals, brought on by years with the Ravens. Kevin saw Betsy for his required sessions, but he trusted Abby with his mind far more than he ever would Betsy. Abby, after all, had been the one who had put him back together all those months ago. Not just Kevin’s hand, either.

He still said, “Then you’ll do it.”

“It won’t help.”

“That doesn’t matter. If the choice is between being benched and seeing Betsy, you’ll see Betsy. Just sit there in silence for half an hour, for all I care.”

Neil hummed, spinning his racquet absently as he stared at the line of cones. Then he said, “Call them for me.”

Apparently being nearly blind in one eye did nothing to damage Neil’s aim, just like whatever was going on inside his head did nothing to improve his temper. Neil always used a heavy racquet but he usually didn’t use enough force to flip each cone over and send them skidding. It might have made Kevin jealous of Neil’s easy grace and power when his was lost, but instead it just blew on the spark in his chest all over again.

The last cone flew off into the wall, bouncing near the home bench where Andrew was lying. He lifted his head to look at them through the wall for a second before dropping down again. Neil watched him even after they had lost his attention. His expression was unfamiliar to Kevin.

“He said that you ended your deal,” Kevin said after a moment. “Why?”

“Because it wasn’t worth it to me,” Neil said, letting his racquet fall to his side.

“What, the protection?”

Neil’s expression was pitying. “No.” He gestured to his face, which was clear enough.

“It’s just Andrew,” Kevin said. “He didn’t really hurt you, right?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised to hear you say that,” Neil said, mouth twisting around the words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you forgotten already? A few months in the sunlight and all those years in Evermore are gone?”

“You know that I can’t forget,” Kevin said, his heart tripping in his chest. They hadn’t – they didn’t talk about it. It went unacknowledged, except for how neither of them could even look at each other without thinking about it. This was dangerous territory for the both of them.

“I don’t _know_ anything,” Neil said, and he sounded weary. “All I can _guess_ is that you exchanged one keeper for another.”

“Andrew and Riko aren’t the same.” Kevin thought that that much was obvious. For a start, Riko was a sociopath, and people only thought that Andrew was. Nicky and Aaron might have been blind to that, not having grown up with the genuine article, but Neil would know.

“No. But you are. I’ve spent what feels like half my life telling you not to excuse the people hurting you,” Neil snapped. “You’re a slow fucking learner.”

Kevin balked. “That’s not what this is.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Nathaniel-”

“Don’t call me that!”

“ _Neil_. Be ours. Andrew can-”

Neil threw his racquet, the clatter sudden enough that Kevin bit his own tongue mid-word. Neil wouldn’t have dared to do that at Evermore: the consequences would have been too awful. It just bounced off the wall, made tough enough that it didn’t crack. It did attract Andrew’s attention again though; this time he actually made the effort to sit up.

“I won’t be one of his _things_ ,” Neil said, more devastating for the quiet delivery. He spoke through his teeth, but the look in his eyes was flat. “You might be happy with that, but I won’t be.”

That wasn’t true, though. Neil had been looking for someone to belong to since the moment he stepped foot on campus in his wary, distrustful way. Wymack, Matt and Dan were all things for him to orbit around. The only difference was that Andrew had thrown that in his face, so now Neil was rebelling.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you signed yourself away to the main branch,” Kevin said. Only after he said it did he realise that his voice was that cold because Neil’s words had actually hit a soft spot. Kevin accepted Andrew’s protection, but his comfort didn’t come from the promise itself. It came from the tightness of Andrew’s hold, his bitter territorial streak.

They were both right. That was the cost of knowing each other too well – too many easy hits. Kevin usually folded first, but tonight Neil turned and stormed off of the court. Kevin watched his progress. For once, Andrew didn’t say anything to him as he stalked past. The court door had been open all this time, so he had presumably been listening to them, if their conversation managed to hold his interest.

Kevin was – angry, he realised. Irritation was familiar, but the purity of actual anger was different. It felt like it was chewing his gut up on the inside.

After a minute he set the cones back up and took up his spot. With his right hand he could hit three. When he put them back up and transferred his racquet to his left hand, he hit all of them. Afterwards, looking at the tumble of cones and Neil’s abandoned racquet while he stretched out the pain in his hand, he wondered if he should be worried. There was no point wondering whether he should be afraid: he always was.

By Friday, the team had descended into a total cold war. It was better than open violence, but not by much.

Allison’s return had divided them even further, with the girls falling in around her as they listened to Wymack reciting their insane line-up for the game. At Matt’s side Neil was a lump of ice in their midst, his silence antagonistic all on its own. The only one who wasn’t annoyed was Andrew, for obvious reasons – even Aaron and Nicky were snapping at each other because Nicky had apparently gone with Renee on Wednesday night and then spilled a big chunk of their backstory to the upperclassmen over drinks.

The ridiculous notion that Andrew could play through an entire game without his drugs and still hold the line was secondary to the fact that Wymack had only had to offer Andrew a bottle of booze to make that happen. That was why he reached out and stopped Andrew from repeatedly opening and slamming his locker, and ignored him pulling items out just to drop them on their feet.

“You can’t last a whole game going through withdrawal,” Kevin said. “What are you thinking?”

Andrew crashing was ugly but useful, to a point. Past that and they would be seeing who they had to carry off the court first tonight: him, or Neil.

“You’re probably right,” Andrew said cheerfully. “Oh, well. It’ll work out.”

“He’s done it before,” Matt chimed in from behind them. Nicky went on to tell Neil the story of last October, seeing as he was the only one who missed it. The story made Kevin grind his teeth: almost a year ago, Wymack had asked Andrew to make a miracle happen for the Foxes and he had done so. This year Kevin couldn’t even ask Andrew to stay at practice with a positive outcome.

Which was why he said, “So you’ll try when Coach asks.”

Andrew looked up at him from where he’d crouched to sort through his gear at Kevin’s feet with a smile. “Careful, Kevin. Jealousy doesn’t become you.”

“Why?” _Why him and not me_ , Kevin meant. Kevin had offered plenty to be here, in exchange for Andrew’s interest and protection, and while he hadn’t paid up yet, the wait to see if he would was enough to keep Andrew’s attention anyway. He had walked back on the court months ago and Andrew had followed. Kevin had thought that meant something. After the last few days, though, his surety was crumbling.

“Because it is so much more fun to tell you no,” Andrew answered, standing up without moving back an inch, so close they nearly collided. “Don’t you want me to have fun? I distinctly remember you wanting me to have fun.”

He meant all that time ago, when Kevin had asked in frustration how Andrew could turn down the Ravens by saying he didn’t care for Exy at all. In retrospect, they were both lucky that Andrew had decided as he had. The frustration now was the same as then – Andrew didn’t like to lie, except to himself sometimes. The problem was that he believed it, too.

Kevin felt the bite of a knife into the thin skin of his chest and swore before it really registered that he had been the one who shoved Andrew. He stepped back away from the flashing blade in the air between them.

“Jesus, Andrew! Kevin, are you alright?” Matt asked.

“Fine,” Kevin said, looking down. The cut was long and shallow, but there wasn’t much blood – a warning, not an attempt at hurting him. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting under his fingers though.

Andrew advanced on him again and put the knife to a point perpendicular to the cut he’d already made, like he wanted to carve a cross on Kevin’s chest. His gaze when he met Kevin’s was the same as always, under the emptiness or glee: evaluating. Kevin could hear Matt moving up behind them, and put a hand out to stop him.

“Kevin,” Andrew said tenderly. “Here’s a tip for you, to make up for all that hard work. Stick to asking for the things that you can actually have. You’ll get less frustrated that way.”

“I can have this,” Kevin growled back, meaning, _I will._

“I suppose we’ll see,” Andrew said, moving the knife closer to his face so he could look at Kevin’s blood marring the tip. He wiped it off on his armband and put it away with a shrug, and then left without a backward glance.

“You’re never going to win that fight,” Nicky said once he was gone, more exasperated than concerned. “Just give up, seriously.”

Kevin didn’t answer that, too busy shoving his gear into his bag and seething. He vaguely heard Nicky and Aaron leaving through the buzzing in his ears.

Matt said, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

A soft hand caught Kevin’s elbow and turned him – Neil, his own duffle already packed and slung over his shoulder. For once, anger make Kevin actually feel the height he had over Neil, though the expression on Neil’s face decreased it.

“He didn’t really hurt you, right?” Neil asked through a smile, putting his other hand to Kevin’s shirt. Kevin shrugged him off and left the room without another word. He heard Matt say behind him, “Tonight is going to be just awesome,” before the locker room door slammed.

Kevin still took his usual seat right in front of Andrew at the back of the bus. Neil came last, having helped Wymack with the stick rack. Kevin didn’t miss the look he shot the two of them, considering.

Neil took the seat between Nicky and Allison, who had put herself alone behind the other upperclassmen with Renee in front of her. He leaned forward as soon as he sat down and said something quietly to Allison, who turned her dead-eyed gaze on him for a moment before facing forwards again. Strange. Neil should have been avoiding Allison like the plague.

Belmonte University’s stadium was small like the Foxhole Court and comfortably similar. They changed out and lined up, Kevin behind Dan with Neil at his back. When Andrew and Nicky brought the stick rack, Kevin took his racquet, tested the strings out of force of habit, and returned his attention to the court.

There was nothing more grounding to Kevin than the familiar outlines of the court, from the plexiglass walls to the lines on the floor to the goals at either end. The roaring of the crowd in reaction to the Terrapin mascot faded to nothing in his ears. After everything else, this was still a sanctuary – he didn’t know how Neil coped, being afraid of the court.

“Do you think Andrew will dose up at half time?” Neil asked behind him, low enough that the others wouldn’t notice but loud enough to jolt Kevin from his thoughts. Kevin’s earlier anger at him had faded, while Neil’s must have been forced aside. They had a job to do here, and nothing else would get in the way of that.

“No. He’ll try ride it to the end,” Kevin replied. Andrew had pushed his last dose up, but they both knew that it wouldn’t last. Only willpower would stop him from vomiting on the court by the final buzzer, if it got him that far at all. Not that he seemed to care – he was talking to Renee animatedly, and seemed unbothered when Nicky pointed out Katelyn with the other Vixens. He said something in German that had both Nicky and Aaron reprimanding him.

Wymack sent them out on a warm up run with Dan in the lead. Neil jogged at Kevin’s side once Andrew dropped back at a slower pace. The unspoken move to preserve his energy did nothing to improve Kevin’s bleak mood. It wouldn’t help, and they both knew it.

“Hold back until I get subbed out. And stay off the wall,” Kevin reminded Neil, who huffed at him like that was obvious.

Kevin was called first onto the court, to the screaming of both crowds. He didn’t bother waving, taking his place and looking across the court towards the Terrapins’ home goal. The players between him and it were immaterial; his mind was full of the hundreds of steps, passes and rebounds he and his team could make to close the gap and see the goal light up red.

The buzzer sounding was the cue he needed to bolt forward with Neil behind him. For a long moment there was no serve, and it suddenly occurred to Kevin that Allison might be frozen solid, but when they were halfway to their backline marks the thump of Andrew’s racquet against the ball sounded to signal that the ball was in play. It bounced off the wall three feet in front of Kevin, and he caught it out of the air only to lose it three steps into his ten when his mark – Brown, five-seven – shoulder-checked him and rattled his racquet. Kevin always appreciated it when they started as they meant to go on.

Neil’s mark Herrera was all over him from the second Neil got within striking distance. Neil was too good for it to cost him catches and shots, but it was clear that Herrera’s continued yapping were costing him his grip on his temper. He was, at least, being careful to stay away from the wall.

Kevin’s own mark wasn’t good enough to stop him from single-handedly taking two goals in the first twenty minutes while Neil held back. His third goal a few minutes later had his mark spitting swears at him. Wymack used the reset to send on Dan for him, and Kevin nodded once to Neil on his way out. There was no fear on the other striker’s face, just resentment and determination.

Kevin was blowing a little when he dropped onto the bench, out of practice at playing that hard for so long. He hadn’t played a full half in so long he had forgotten what it was even like. He wanted to remember, though, just like he still wanted to be on the court as he watched Neil and Dan fight, even though his muscles were screaming. That need increased when he saw Neil dispatch Herrera with a perfectly done feint that sent him tripping over a crouching Neil’s racquet straight into the wall. Clearly they had put more effort into thinking up how to try and take Neil off the court than they had learning the ways that Neil would do the same to them. It was a move worthy of a Class 1 striker, and it deserved the goal it earned them.

Halftime saw them neck and neck, and Kevin had to bite back his urge to lecture the team. Even he could recognise that it was too hard for them to play at full-strength for so long – they had to back off, or the last twenty minutes would see them crash and burn. Kevin held his tongue and stretched out his left hand until Neil gave him a look.

Neil’s attention was mostly on Andrew anyway. Andrew looked untouchable amidst the usual locker room bustle, lost inside his head. The crash was always more obvious during the day when there were other people around than it was at night, and it was uncomfortable to look at. Neil didn’t say anything, but there was something evaluating in his expression.

“I don’t get it,” he murmured to Kevin eventually. He meant he didn’t understand Andrew at all, which was fair; Andrew had no interest in showing Neil any weak spots, and even less in explaining himself.

“When you do, you will have to let me know,” was all he said in response.

Their second half started as aggressively with Nicky, Allison and Kevin back on the court. Playing with Dan as a striker was strange, but they had enough of an understanding that they each scored a goal apiece within the first twenty minutes.

Suddenly, Kevin could see what they were building here falling into place in Seth’s absence and with these particular players on the court, even out of their normal positions. The Foxes were unconventional in every sense, but they were still fantastic athletes even if their concept of teamwork was non-existent. It was gratifying to see all of Kevin’s hopes for the team start to play out in front of his eyes.

When Neil was sent back out for Dan at reset, the Terrapins’ dealer – Hill, five-eleven, good shooting stats but known for getting red-carded – started with a hard shot at goal. His aim was no good, Kevin could see from here. Allison stepped aside and let it bounce off the wall an inch outside the goal while Andrew watched it, unimpressed. He did at least hit it out of his space, though it did nothing for Kevin’s blood pressure to see the two of them let Hill take it with no contest.

Allison took him out a second later, before he had a chance to take a step, knocking the ball free for her to steal and pass up towards them. Kevin distinctly heard Hill say something to her as they chased it up the court, though he couldn’t make out what, and Allison faltered mid-step enough that Hill nearly ran into her.

Neil, who was closer to the two of them, snarled, “ _Fuck off_ ,” at Hill even as he caught the free ball and shot it straight into Kevin’s net. It was a matter of pulling his arm back, looking, and pivoting, and his next throw scored them another goal. He didn’t care for the resolution of whatever was happening with his defensive line except to note that Allison was still in play when he turned back to them.

The Terrapins’ serve sent the ball down for Terrapin strikers to battle Fox backliners for possession. They had practiced it enough that Matt managed to knock his striker over and clear the ball up the court.

It was almost a replay of their game against Breckenridge: Neil received the ball from Matt and then, a second later, was tackled by Herrera so hard that they both went down. They were nowhere near the wall which meant that Neil was up in an instant. Somewhere in the melee it looked like Neil stood on Herrera’s wrist, completely unintentionally, and when the backliner got to his feet he threw a punch that sent Neil down again.

Kevin was already halfway over, having seen the hit coming, but he was beaten there by an unlikely teammate – Allison, who had dropped her racquet somewhere back down the court, bulled into Herrera and followed it up with a beautiful right cross that sent him sprawling. By then Neil was upright and he hustled to push Allison back before she could start a full-on brawl.

Kevin made it over in time to hear Neil say to her, “Knew you were a fighter, Reynolds.” Allison gave him that dead look again in response, but there was something fierce and familiar in the line of her mouth even as the referees sent her off with a red card. Herrera received a yellow, and Renee came on with the same ferocity, though hers was tempered with a smile.

The remainder of the half was a fierce fight, point to point like their Breckenridge game had been, except this time the Foxes were the ones who were coming out on top. Kevin scored a beautiful clean shot in the last minute to put the Foxes in the lead, which meant the final seconds of the game were a desperate tussle to keep it without pushing them into overtime. They were fucked if that happened – Andrew was somehow still going now, but he couldn’t last an extra fifteen minutes even if the rest of them could.

As the clock counted down, one of the Terrapin strikers – Watts, six-two, right-handed – got the ball and made for it with Aaron dragging behind him. Kevin’s stomach turned to concrete – there was no way –

Kevin watched in – shock, really, as Andrew smashed his racquet down against the floor in the perfect spot to stop the ball, and then went after it hand over knee to knock it clear of the goal just as the buzzer deafened them.

Andrew didn’t get up, though. Before anything else, Kevin bolted for him. He had his racquet pulled close, head bowed, and he didn’t move even as the other Foxes crashed into each other in celebration.

As Kevin crouched and mimed something absently for the cameras, he was hyperaware of Andrew’s desperate panting. No matter what Neil implied, this was what Kevin was here for – not Andrew’s medicated mania, but whatever it was that pushed him this hard on the court even when he crashed, even when he claimed that he didn’t care. The protection he believed in, but life didn’t matter to Kevin like Exy did.

Niceties were overrated; only keeping promises mattered to people like them. Kevin was willing to prove that, and he was willing to risk the odd knick when dealing with someone as sharp as Andrew Minyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Next: Neil v. Betsy (round one), Neil v. Renee (round two)


	13. Chapter 13

In Neil’s nightmares, he was locked in the trunk of a car.

He was locked in the trunk of a car with his heart beating its way out of his chest. He was locked in the trunk of a car with the sound of his own voice begging, tear-thick and barely recognisable. He was locked in the trunk of a car with blood all over his hands, clotted enough to make his fingers stick to his palms.

He was thirteen, and locked in with the still-warm corpse of his mother.

When he woke up, he was almost always in the narrow enclosure of his bunk with the ceiling close enough to make his chest cave in. Real life didn’t help him, especially when his dreams were memories that he relived over and over again in his sleep.

“Neil,” Matt said, voice low and bleary. Usually he didn’t bother, because normally Neil left the room before he got the chance. “Neil?”

“Yeah,” Neil rasped back in quiet acknowledgment. He heard rustling and looked over the edge of the bed to find Matt looking back at him, his face lit up an eerie blue by the glow of his phone.

“You’re alright,” Matt said, a statement rather than a question. It was nice to hear, in a strange way – even having survived the Belmonte game without a hiccup, Neil wasn’t alright, but it was a comfort hearing someone say it like he would be.

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” he replied, dropping down onto his mattress again. It was too dark and cold to run at this hour on a Monday morning, and they would have to get up for practice soon enough anyway. Despite his words, though, neither of them fell back asleep before Matt’s alarm went off.

Neil went to morning practice as normal in the back of Matt’s truck, but went to Reddin in the afternoon. Wymack said that he would send someone over to pick Neil up so he wasn’t too late for afternoon practice, and so he walked over from his maths class rather than go via the dorms. The autumn air was crisp, and the campus was bustling. The black streamers for Seth had already mostly been cleared away, but here and there were a few straggly remnants on fences and walls.

He had missed the semester meet-and-greet with Betsy that was required of the Foxes, already putting him on the back foot. He knew that Andrew had undoubtedly spoken about him at least once during his weekly sessions, and that Dan was another regular visitor during the season. It didn’t matter that patient-doctor confidentiality meant Betsy couldn’t tell Neil what they had told her; he knew that she would have formed an opinion. Actually, not knowing what had been said about him just made it worse.

Neil had barely sat down on a couch in the waiting room when a woman emerged from down the hall. She smiled when she saw him, the skin around her eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure. It was probably the most pleased anyone had ever looked to see Neil.

“You must be Neil?” she asked, and at Neil’s nod said, “I’m Betsy Dobson. Please, come in.”

She led him down the hall and into her office, stepping out of the doorway so he had plenty of room to get through. “Take a seat. Tea? Cocoa?”

“No thank you,” Neil answered, taking the chair. The office was warmly furnished, not quite what he had imagined. It took him a moment to realise that what was throwing him off was the perfect tidiness of the room.

Betsy settled down behind her desk, looking at Neil through her glasses. “So. How are you, Neil?”

She was unnerving the same way he found Renee, though he doubted that Betsy had a mysterious history of knife-play and violence. It was more that as soft as she seemed, she was clearly deeply intelligent. Neil had never dealt with the two like that together before he came to PSU – Kevin was the closest, and despite Neil’s personal feelings even he could recognise that Kevin wasn’t all that soft.

This was the woman who outlasted Andrew Minyard and whatever he had thrown at the twelve psychiatrists before her. It didn’t pay to forget that.

“Fine,” Neil said, and through effort it didn’t sound as though it came through his teeth.

“You look a bit like you’ve been through the wars,” she said, touching her fingers to her own face where Neil knew he had a distinctly green patch of bruising. “You must have been pleased with the win on Friday, though?”

“You watch the games?”

“Of course. I admit that I don’t know much about Exy, but I still enjoy the spectacle when I get a chance,” she said, reaching into her desk drawer. She pulled out a little voice recorder that she put on the desk between the two of them.

“Neil, have you had any counselling before?”

Neil had to resist the urge to laugh. “No.”

“I record sessions so I can evaluate them or listen back to them later, but I want you to understand that only I have access to these recordings. Furthermore, everything we discuss within these walls is strictly between the two of us,” she explained. “The only exception is if I think that you are in danger, or a danger to other people. Then I might choose to involve people who could help you better than I could.”

 _If only she knew_. Neil nodded, because he couldn’t have any other possible responses. She flicked the recorder on so it lit red.

“Unlike the meetings I do with your teammates each semester, this is a formal session,” _so I will be picking apart everything you say_ , “but you shouldn’t let that stop you from speaking your mind – this appointment is about you. So, Neil, please tell me a bit about yourself.”

“You must already know,” Neil prodded. Since his identity had gone public, information about him was everywhere, even without his teammates passing it on to Betsy themselves. The important secrets were secrets still, but Neil himself wasn’t a mystery.

“I know what David told me when he made these appointments, and I know the opinions of some of the other Foxes. What I want to hear is what you have to say.”

“What _did_ Coach say when he booked me in?”

“That – and this is his opinion, not mine – you had some trauma in your past that is affecting you now that you want to work through.”

That was both more truthful than Neil had been expecting and more of an understatement than Neil thought possible.

“He asked me to help you. And I will, if you let me,” she went on gently.

“My name is Nathaniel Wesninski,” Neil said, ignoring the effect that his own name had on him. “I was born in Baltimore, and my father gave me to Tetsuji Moriyama when I was ten years old.”

Betsy’s expression didn’t flicker. “Gave?”

“Sold,” Neil corrected.

“I know I said I’m not a follower of sports, but I do know who Tetsuji Moriyama is. So, you were with his team for eight years?”

“Five,” Neil said. Betsy gave him a prompting look but he wouldn’t go on, just looked at her. The words _my mother took me and ran, and that killed her_ hung on the back of his tongue like poison, but that was too much truth.

“The thing about counselling is that it works a lot better when you are honest,” she prompted as if reading his mind.

Honesty wasn’t Neil’s problem, though. “There are lots of things that I just can’t talk about.”

“Because?”

“Because I’m from a family of criminals. It brings a whole new meaning to being ‘a danger to others’,” Neil quipped.

Betsy hummed thoughtfully. “Then I appreciate what honesty you can afford me. So you spent five years with the Ravens. What was that like?”

Neil smiled crookedly. “Damaging?”

“Do you think so?”

That threw him a little. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what makes you think it damaged you?”

Neil could only stare at her for a long moment. There were a lot of ways to answer that: _I can’t sleep without having nightmares_ , or _I have panic attacks so bad I think I must be going insane,_ or _I can’t hear my own name without hearing it screamed_. It was almost impossible to choose one.

He stood, suddenly enough that Betsy finally blinked. He heard her chair move on the floor when he turned his back on her, but she stopped when she realised that he wasn’t leaving. Instead he hitched down his shirt with one hand on the hem. It was too big for him, so the neck of it pulled easy enough to show both some the scars from Riko’s knife and the half-moon imprint of teeth where someone had drawn blood.

Betsy didn’t do anything so cliché as gasp – she didn’t make a sound at all. After a moment she said, “Neil,” and Neil let go and turned back to her.

“Because of that,” he said, and it came out confrontational even as his heart pounded in his throat and his skin crawled. Then he dropped back into his seat.

“You received those at Edgar Allen?” Betsy asked, steepling her fingers in front of her on the desk.

“Not all of them,” Neil replied. Her lack of reaction was more soothing than pity ever would have been.

"At some point we are going to have a discussion about how people marking your body in no way makes you ‘damaged’,” she said. “For now though, I want to hear about how you are settling in here. Do you feel safe with the Foxes?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“The Foxes are a group. I feel as safe as I ever do with some of them. Some of them, not so much.”

“Any of them in particular?” She smiled as she said it. His face must have been an indicator that he knew this question was prompted by whatever the others and Wymack might have said.

“No one I can’t handle,” Neil replied, unwilling to say anything specific. It had the added bonus of being true – Neil had already survived Andrew Minyard, even if he had come off second best.

“Okay,” Betsey accepted. “We’re nearly out of time, but there was one last thing I wanted to find out. What are you hoping to achieve from these sessions?”

That was almost more difficult than trying to define his reasons for feeling damaged. He couldn’t say to Betsy’s face that he wanted to get through the sessions so he would be allowed to play. Or he could, if he wanted to be asked again every Monday for the rest of his college career. He might not have been to counselling before, but even he could figure out that part of it meant accepting that there was something to improve.

Neil _was_ damaged – not just his skin, but also his mind. This wasn’t going to be fixed by Betsy Dobson and her too-neat office with her degree framed on the wall. This wasn’t fixable at all. Neil wasn’t willing to pretend: down that road lay a tentative hope he couldn’t afford.

“I want to be better,” he found himself saying, raw as a wound. That was the truth Betsy had asked for, ugly and brutal. Betsy looked like she wanted to unpack that, but their half-hour was up.

“Neil. Thank you. I’ll see you next Monday,” she said instead. Neil couldn’t do anything but nod and leave, feeling like he’d been scrubbed out inside with a wire brush. He couldn’t decide if he had revealed too much, but he couldn’t change that now.

When Neil finally got out the front door of Reddin, Andrew’s car was parked at the curb, and Neil’s heart sank into his shoes. He couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to spend less time with right now than Nicky. That was, up until he realised that the driver of the car wasn’t Nicky but Renee.

“Neil, hi,” she said, looking up from her phone where she was leaning against the hood. She was wearing her light uniform for their cardio training, and she smiled at Neil exactly like Betsy had, bright and welcoming as though she was pleased to see him. Neil didn’t say anything as he walked around the car to drop into the passenger seat. He would have preferred Nicky.

Neil expected her to ask how things had gone with Betsy, but instead she was quiet as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Eventually Neil said, “I didn’t realise anyone else drove Andrew’s car.”

“He said that he knows there is less chance of me crashing it than Nicky,” Renee replied, tapping her fingers absently on the steering wheel. “Nicky picks up Andrew on Wednesdays, so it seemed more sensible that I pick you up. That way Nicky doesn’t miss practice twice.”

“Sure,” Neil commented, looking out the window. The view was familiar after a few months at PSU, and once he focussed, Neil realised that they weren’t heading towards the stadium – they had turned the wrong way out of the parking lot and were heading towards the opposite side of the campus. His heart froze in his chest momentarily, and then leapt to life at ten times its original speed. “Where are you taking me?”

Renee looked over at him and offered a smile. “I wondered when you’d catch on. Nowhere, actually. I just wanted ten more minutes to talk to you.”

“Coach is going to wonder where we are,” Neil said, not sure himself if that was a statement of fact or a warning.

“I told him we would be a little late back,” Renee replied. “I didn’t want him to worry.”

“You’ve got ten minutes, then,” Neil said, not quite snapping. The idea that she actually mentioned this plan to Wymack was half a comfort, but he was still prickly about having been cornered. That it was Renee doing the cornering was worse; Neil’s main association with Renee was her crushing him ruthlessly in Fox Tower’s basement.

“Andrew said that you broke your deal with him already,” she said.

“Yes.”

Surprisingly, her response was, “I don’t blame you.”

“What?”

“If I were in your position, I probably would have done the same,” she said. “He told me about your deal when he asked me to be involved in the first place. In your eyes, he didn’t keep his end of the bargain.”

“If you were in my position, you would have won,” he said, because Renee was better than both of them. She chuckled a little at that. “But what’s your point?”

“My point is that when Andrew agreed to let Kevin stay, we divided the team in two. He would protect his group, if needed, and the others would be mine.”

“So you’re going to offer me a deal,” Neil said, words dripping with scepticism.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“Uh – what?” Neil asked, blinking a little.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that we are a fractured team. We’re split in two and it costs us on the court. But you’re in a unique position; you have a connection with Kevin, and you’ve caught Andrew’s interest too. I’m asking that you bring them in to us.”

“I don’t have that kind of influence over any of them. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Andrew wiped the floor with me the other night. He probably lost interest after that.”

“That’s not quite how it works,” she replied.

“Andrew likes you. Everyone says it. Surely you have a better shot than I do.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Andrew respects me and tolerates me, but our relationship has a very delicate balance. The others like to bet, but it isn’t like that between us.”

“They’re convinced that the two of you are going to end up together,” Neil said. There was a lot of money riding on it, according to Matt. Whether they had bet for or against the pairing, none of the Foxes actually wanted the two to end up together. That much was obvious from the groups’ shared looks every time Renee and Andrew spoke.

“Yes, they are. You’ll just have to take my word for it: that won’t happen,” she said lightly.

Neil took a stab in the dark. “Because of Kevin?”

Renee shot him a look that was half-surprised before turning back to the road.

“It’s not like that. Kevin is straight.”

“Apparently that doesn’t preclude people wanting him,” Neil said, quoting Andrew’s comment from their night in Columbia. Obviously recognising it, Renee laughed again.

“Andrew said you had assumed he allowed Kevin to stay because he wanted Kevin that way. You’re wrong, but it makes me curious that you did think that,” she said. “Why?”

Neil mulled over his answer for a long moment. “I can’t think of anything else that Kevin has that Andrew might want.”

“Can't you?" she asked lightly. "I think it's probably a little more complicated than that. Knowing Andrew, I don’t think liking someone necessarily means that he would do what they wanted. Maybe if they asked the right way."

“Then how do you propose _I_ do it?”

“Kevin is going to reach out to you, probably sooner rather than later. You should let him.”

“Do you think _Andrew_ is going to let him?”

“I think if Kevin can summon up the courage to ask him to give ground, he probably will.”

That was an interesting observation about both men – the idea that Andrew would back down if Kevin were brave enough to ask him to give Neil access to their circle, and the idea that Kevin might actually ask at all. Neil said, “I don’t think you’re right.”

Privately, he didn’t think it would matter. Kevin seemed content to let Andrew dictate who he spent time with. He hadn’t reached out so far; Neil had no reason to think that would change now.

“Would you like to make a wager?” Renee asked, because even though she was different from the others in so many ways, she was still a Fox.

“I don’t make bets,” Neil replied, a refrain of what he had been saying for months. Unlike the others, Renee just smiled to hear it. They pulled into the parking lot of the court, Renee parking up next to Matt’s hulk of a truck where it sat by the gates. Neil grabbed his bag and slid out, suddenly eager for the purity of running until he couldn’t think straight.

“By the way, it’s interesting that you implied that Andrew won, the other night,” Renee said, catching his eye over the roof of the car. “Because _he_ implied that _you_ did.”

Neil couldn’t quite believe that. He gestured to his face. “Does this look like winning to you?”

“In my experience, winning often looks exactly like that,” Renee replied. “That being said, if you like I’m happy to keep sparring with you. Andrew doesn’t need to be involved at all.”

Neil stared at her blankly until she said, “I understand why you might be hesitant to accept that offer. You don’t need to decide now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I – I will. Please,” Neil said, before he thought how stupid it was that he was asking her to beat the hell out of him and then saying _please_. But that wasn’t what she was offering this time, he realised. She meant to offer to teach him how to protect himself properly, and that was what he was accepting.

She smiled. “Good. Now, come on, before Coach really does start to worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: the banquet and Jean Moreau.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Iris, the real hero here <3

By the time the autumn banquet rolled around, Neil was getting less hours of sleep a night than he had in the Nest. Hours at on the court at night and then irregular sparring sessions with Renee meant that sleep was limited even without the night terrors. He and Matt were both looking distinctly hollow eyed.

It was relatively short but the idea of being confined on the team bus for the four-hour drive was almost intolerable. Neil tucked himself between Nicky and Allison to wait it out.

Kevin’s wavering grip didn’t help his composure. They were barely halfway into their trip when he began to pant behind Neil. Neil started to grind his teeth at the sound of it, his heart tripping in his chest.

Eventually, Neil stood and tramped down the aisle to where Kevin was hunched over his bent knee, his face buried in the crook of his arm. Andrew, who was leaning over the back of Kevin’s seat with a grin, looked up.

“Fuck off,” Neil said, uninterested in being polite. Andrew laughed but leaned back on his heels while holding the headrest until he let go and hit his own seat with a thump. Once he was out of reach, Neil slid into the seat next to Kevin.

“Get a grip,” he told him in French. “You can’t afford to look this weak in front of them.”

“I can’t,” he said in the same language before giving up. He blinked at Neil instead, eyes gone blank with panic.

“Your guard dog won’t let anything happen to you,” Neil said slowly. “And I won’t let them take you back. You said it yourself: you are a Fox. Neither of us are Ravens anymore. They can’t have us.”

“The Master-” Kevin attempted.

“-knows not to overstep his boundaries,” Neil finished. Tetsuji had treated Kevin like an expensive pet – one that needed the best of the best – but he had never left a doubt in Kevin’s mind that he was Riko’s to do with as he pleased. It was wilful cruelty. Now though, Neil had no doubt that Tetsuji knew exactly how hard he could push when he wanted Kevin to last long enough with the Foxes to make it to their game against the Ravens.

“Don’t make me watch you struggle,” Neil said, because he wasn’t cruel enough to say _they were always worse to me, but I’m not a useless wreck like you right now_. There was limited satisfaction in kicking a man who was already down.

Neil felt the distinctive thump of a foot hitting the back of their seat perfectly in line with his lower back. Moments later, skin-warm cotton brushed the top of his head as Andrew slung his arm over the back of the seat again and leaned forward.

“Have you convinced him that the sky isn’t falling yet?” Andrew asked with his shark-grin.

“You aren’t helping,” Neil informed him pointlessly. They both knew that Andrew wasn’t trying to help. “As long as you stay with him, he’ll be fine.”

“He’ll be fine. It’ll all be _fine_ ,” Andrew said, mockery dripping from his voice. “You believe him, don’t you, Kevin?”

“I believe him,” Kevin muttered into his palm, looking at Neil. His expression was hunted. Neil abruptly felt exhausted; there was nothing in him that could make Kevin brave. At this point, Neil was just a vivid reminder of everything Edgar Allen.

“You two make a fine pair of liars. The issues with co-dependency and self-hatred, though; you should tell your shrink about that,” Andrew recommended,

“Don’t you mean _our_ shrink?” Neil asked, because he wasn’t above a cheap shot where he could get one. Andrew laughed, but that was fine – if Neil wanted to land a proper hit, he would. When he didn’t do so Andrew sat back again, interest lost.

As they pulled into Blackwell’s parking lot, they had to drive directly past the three black and red buses that bought the Ravens here from West Virginia. Neil’s heart sank into his shoes; it wasn’t real until he saw them with his own eyes. Neil doubted that Wymack parked as far from them as possible by coincidence.

“Everybody off,” he said once he’d taken the key from the ignition. He came up to the back of the bus with Abby’s travel bag slung over his shoulder. He stood aside to let Aaron, Nicky and their dates off before drawing parallel with Kevin and Neil’s seat.

Wymack produced a bottle of vodka from Abby’s bag. “You have ten seconds.”

Neil had known Kevin for years, but he was still impressed by the sheer volume of straight spirit the man could consume in such a short amount of time. Once Wymack had pried it out of Kevin’s hands, he offered the bottle to Neil.

“No thanks,” Neil said.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Andrew commented, reaching for it. Wymack snatched it away and shoved it back into the bag with a scowl. He stayed standing over the three of them, silent and watchful.

That amount of booze didn’t take long to start affecting Kevin on an empty stomach. Once his breathing had slowed a little, Neil gave him a shove in the shoulder.

“Move,” he said, and when Kevin was too slow to react for his liking, “ _move_ , asshole.”

Neil stood to get out, only to find his way blocked by Andrew as he made to get off the bus himself. He brushed by Neil almost cheek to cheek, his mouth curved into a smirk that was definitely at Neil and Kevin’s expense.

“Neil,” Wymack said. Neil paused to look at him with one foot in the aisle. “Behave this time. Keep your mouth closed.”

“Yes, Coach.” Unfortunately, he suspected agreeing would be a lot easier than following through.

Matt had Neil’s change of clothes, which he passed over once Neil had climbed out of the bus. Andrew accepted his own from Nicky before he turned back to watch Kevin drag his feet with Wymack behind him.

Allison came to stand next to Neil. They had made plans to come together – or, more accurately, Allison had informed Neil that he would be her date for the evening and that she would be dressing him. Neil hadn’t dared to say no. He was grateful for that now; Allison was a deathly calm presence at his side as she examined her dress for wrinkles.

It was obvious that the people staffing the event were fascinated to see them. Neil met more than one curious stare, to which he offered nothing but a bland expression. Riko’s number on his face was distinctive enough to be immediately recognisable, especially after he let loose on Kathy Ferdinand’s show.

By the time they changed out and stored their clothes in the gear closet, Kevin was well and truly under the influence of the vodka. He’d lost his deathly pallor and regained his ability to talk, but Neil doubted that that would last.

It wasn’t the first time Neil had seen a court repurposed like this. Edgar Allen had hosted banquets during Neil’s time there, and they held a glamorous black tie fundraiser each year that was attended by dozens of celebrities and past Raven players. Neil hadn’t liked it then, and he still didn’t like it now.

Wymack opened the court door and waited for them to file through as someone announced their arrival. Every eye in the room turned to them, most of them hostile. The Foxes had won more games since the beginning of this season than they had during any other, and it hadn’t endeared them to any of their rival teams.

Neil was utterly unsurprised to see that they had been seated at the same table as the Ravens, their orange colours bright against the black. If it wasn’t because of Riko’s easy influence, then there was doubtless an organiser with a penchant for causing drama.

When Andrew noticed, he laughed. “Maybe this will be interesting after all. Kevin, come on.”

Dan had already seen. She swore under her breath, and started walking over with barely a pause, Andrew on her heels. Kevin pasted himself up against the goalkeeper’s back, and Neil took his spot behind Kevin like they were walking onto the court for a game. The clack of Allison’s heels followed Neil, brisk and businesslike.

The sight of all those familiar faces in their blacks was mind-bending, in a way. The last time Neil had seen most of these people, he had been one of them. More accurately, the last time he had seen most of these people, he had been dragging his bloody and bruised body past them out of Edgar Allen’s dorms for the last time. They looked the same now as they had then; cold, removed, and anticipatory.

Dan pulled out the chair across from Riko, with Matt on one side and Andrew between her and Kevin.

“Riko Moriyama,” she greeted, proud as a queen. She looked unimpressed by the Ravens and their perfectly held poses. “I’m Dan Wilds.”

Riko stretched out his arm towards her, his hand dropped from the wrist like he expected her kiss on his knuckles. As far as shows of disrespect went, this was blatant. But Dan hadn’t made it this far in life by backing down.

She looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before saying, “Didn’t your father ever teach you a proper handshake?”

Despite himself, Neil had to bite his lip to stop his mouth falling open. That was a solid hit at Riko’s biggest insecurity, one that Riko wouldn’t take lying down. Neil had known that Dan had a brutal edge in there somewhere, but this was the first time Neil got the opportunity to see it. Riko let his hand drop back to the table. The corners of his mouth quirked with a smile, but his eyes didn’t have a trace of humour in them.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by your lack of good manners,” Riko said after a moment, his voice frigid under the amusement. “The female Class I captain. For someone with such a chequered past, you have done quite well for yourself.”

“I didn’t realise that my past was considered ‘chequered’,” Dan commented. Her amusement looked genuine, and was mixed with just a touch of viciousness.

“Didn’t you?” Riko asked. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you your own history, Hennessey.”

Matt stiffened visibly, the broad mass of him looming over the table, but Dan just laughed a little. “Smart boy, doing your research. Did you talk to my old teammates? Because trust me when I say that I’ve heard that one before.”

She took her seat, and the other Foxes followed her. Neil aimed for the only seat he could possibly take – the one that put him directly across from Jean Moreau. He sat and for the first time looked away from Riko.

Jean looked exactly the same. Neil was accustomed to being on the receiving end of the coolly composed glare he was given. To Neil it was overlaid with the dozens of times Jean had peeled Neil off of the court floor or put him back together after Riko and the others were done with him. Jean’s mask had always been better than Nathaniel’s.

“Jean,” Neil said in French, his voice low. “It’s been too long.”

“Your new team is a disgrace,” Jean replied. “Don’t you feel ashamed to have fallen so far?”

“I’m pleased to see you too,” Neil replied with a little smirk.

“Is it worth it?” Jean insisted. Neil was sure it was meant to sound like an accusation, but there was a trace of honest desperation underneath. Neil heard it purely from years of exposure to the tone.

“I made my own choices. And when you get the chance to make yours, I’ll be waiting to ask you the same thing,” Neil replied, as steady and sure as his own heartbeat. Jean blinked at the honesty – even in this more private language, they were still in a crowded room, and Neil wasn’t the type to talk like that in front of people. As for the people who could understand them, Neil looked up and found Kevin looking at him like he was trying to figure Neil out.

“Kevin,” Jean said, drawing Kevin’s eyes to him. His sudden smile was lazy, but it didn’t match the chilling expression in his eyes.

“Hello, Jean,” Kevin replied softly. There was nothing between them that could be eased with words, and both of them knew it. Neil and Jean had survived the aftermath of Kevin’s abandonment together, and while Neil didn’t need the hatred over that to fuel him anymore, he suspected Jean did. Neil wouldn’t begrudge him that. Neither, it seemed, would Kevin.

After a moment Jean turned his gaze back on Neil. “You are not supposed to be playing at being a striker. Your captain is incapable of turning you into a functional team, your coach selects for sad backstories over actual skill, and your goalkeeper is an embarrassment to the sport.”

He had obviously been saving those ones up for a while. This wasn’t Riko’s bladed insult hidden under a paper-thin layer of courtesy. This was Jean Moreau’s blunt and honest criticism, which Neil had heard at least once a day for close to five years.

“Sure,” Neil replied easily, “and there’s one other thing that you have that I don’t.”

“What’s that?” Jean asked cautiously, knowing a trap when he heard one out of Neil’s mouth. His arm was lying across the table in well-feigned relaxation, sleeve had pulled up. Neil reached across and pressed his index finger to the livid lines traced into the inside of Jean’s wrist.

“That one’s new, isn’t it,” Neil murmured. “Jean, I said it once already. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jean moved his arm from under Neil’s finger, in a way that pushed his cuff down. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t try that with me,” Neil warned. “You know it isn’t true.”

“Haven’t you ever been told that it isn’t polite to converse in another language when not everyone speaks it?” Allison interrupted, in badly-accented but clear French. When the three of them gaped at her, she went on, “What? Money can’t buy you everything, but it can buy you holidays to the south of France, and trips to all the best fashion houses in Paris.”

Her addition to their conversation finally drew Riko’s attention away from Dan and to the four of them.

“Allison Reynolds, is it?” he asked. “I was sorry to hear about your boyfriend. My condolences.”

The entire table was silent on both sides, all of them waiting for the fallout. Allison stared back at him for a long moment before she let out a peal of laughter. It was a ringing sound over the quiet, as pretty as the woman who made it. Then she leant forward so she and Riko had a clear view of one another down the table.

“Are you sure you want to go there, Moriyama?” she asked, sugar-sweet and utterly unafraid. “Are you really, really sure?”

Riko smiled thinly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maybe,” Allison said, leaning back in her chair again with her jaw tilted like a challenge. “You are awfully cocky for someone with everything to lose. You might want to be careful with people like us.”

“Is that a threat?” Davidson asked from down the table.

“Of course not,” Renee interjected sweetly, like she didn’t have a hard grip on Allison’s thigh under the table. Allison didn’t have to say yes aloud when her eyes said it for her anyway. Neil hadn’t known what he was dealing with when he had told her the truth about Seth, but he had a feeling now that Allison would prove herself a woman on fire before everything else was done. That is, if she hadn’t already.

“We prefer to save that sort of thing for the court,” Renee went on, still smiling.

“You are even less of a threat on the court than you are right now,” Jean said, fixing Renee with his pale gaze. When he took her in something flickered in her expression. It looked like surprise but Neil knew enough to recognise it as neatly crushed interest. It didn’t stop him from continuing, “You do not belong in the same class as us.”

“We didn’t ask you to come here,” Matt said from next to Dan.

“You took what belongs to us, and thieves require punishment,” Anna, who had taken Neil’s place as the Ravens’ starting backliner, said from her seat next to Jean. “You brought this on yourselves.”

“We didn’t _steal_ anything. These are human beings we’re talking about,” Dan said, her gaze piercing. “Of course, you might not understand that.”

“That’s just the kind of touchy-feely bullshit I would expect to hear from a Fox,” Anna spat. She was probably just as disgusted as she sounded; she had never cared for being soft. As one of the few women Ravens, she couldn’t afford to be. “And you wonder why you can’t succeed on the court.”

“Empathy and success aren’t mutually exclusive,” Renee interjected gently, resting her head in her cupped palm. “We’ve been having an unprecedented season so far.”

“Yes, relying on Raven-trained players,” Jean said, gesturing at Kevin and Neil.

“You can’t that they aren’t good enough half the time and then the other half claim them to be better than everyone else,” Matt cut in.

“Yes we can. Even the lowest-ranking Raven is better than any individual player from another team,” Jean replied scornfully.

“I hope you tell that to Laila Dermott’s face next time you see her,” Matt said, naming the nightmare goalkeeper from the USC Trojans who every year came closer to shutting the Ravens out. Neil privately thought that if her backliners were more talented, she probably would have achieved that by now. “Not to mention the dozens of other Class 1 players that you would poach in a second if you could.”

“It does no one any good to deny the truth,” Jean retorted.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dan said, tilting her head back. “This is an official event, and I don’t want to spent the entire evening listening to bickering. Don’t waste my Saturday night.”

“I suppose you worked through plenty of Saturday nights in high school, so they must seem so important now,” Anna said gleefully, like she as prodding at Dan. Neil didn’t understand, but he thought that was pretty weak as far as stings went.

Dan evidently agreed. She laughed brightly and said, “If you’re attacking my work ethic, you must really be out of ammunition.”

It was only because Neil was facing his captain that he saw Nicky lean back in his chair to reach around Matt and Dan’s backs towards Andrew. Nicky was looking at Neil – or not, Neil realised. He was looking past at Rivka, the Raven goalkeeper, who had the seat next to Anna.

“Did he just put something in Neil’s drink?” Nicky said in soft German to Andrew.

Neil’s grasp of the language wasn’t great, not like his French and Japanese, but his three years in Europe and three months of listening to the monsters bicker had given him more than enough to understand that. Andrew looked somewhat entertained by the direction the conversation had taken, particularly the way that Kevin seemed to be shrinking back in his chair. He hadn’t been watching Neil, but Nicky obviously had been.

“Did he?” he asked Nicky, but he was looking directly at Neil.

“Did he?” Neil asked in the same language. Nicky and Aaron both stared at him from down the other end of the table. When his question failed to get an answer, he picked the glass of water that had been poured for him at his table setting and pulled it closer to him. It looked untouched, but he was intimately familiar with the fact that that meant nothing. He wasn’t about to take a sip to find out.

He had thought that no one was watching him, but when he looked up from the still surface of the water he met a pair of intent dark eyes.

Holding Riko’s gaze, Neil upended the glass across the table. Allison and Kevin both recoiled a little, but mostly it sloshed across to splash over Jean and Anna across from him. The spread of it was impressive, saturating the tablecloth.

“Really?” Riko asked, raising an eyebrow. They obviously hadn’t expected him to make a production of it – more fool them. Neil righted the glass and threw it so it shot between Riko and Jean and shattered on the court floor straight behind them. The sound of it echoed, drawing what seemed like every set of eyes in the room.

“Really,” Neal replied in English. “It must be hard for you, not getting what you want all the time just because everything you’ve ever been good at is related to a sport no one in your family gives a damn about. You just always forget yourself, Riko. You are the second son, and that is all you ever will be no matter how many trophies you win. It’s really hard to pity you when you are too stupid to realise that.”

He didn’t speak loudly enough for his words to go beyond their table, but that didn’t mean that every Raven wasn’t agape. All those faces were used to sharp-tongued Nathaniel Wesninski, but they hadn’t ever heard him go after Riko like this.

“Neil-” Dan said, sounding equally horrified as if she hadn’t already implied the same thing, but she didn’t have a chance to go on before Wymack’s voice sounded from directly behind Neil’s seat.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, presumably of Neil. Neil was too busy watching Riko try to restrain himself to look up.

“Difference in opinion,” Neil said with the vicious snarl of a grin he had inherited from his father. “You know how it goes, Coach.”

Riko’s look promised revenge, but Neil’s blood was up enough that he had forgotten how to be afraid.

“Get up,” Wymack commanded. “Abby is finding us a new table. _Now._ ”

The others all stood up quicker than Neil, who stayed in his seat for a moment longer. He had a point, and he’d made it. He stood just before Wymack clapped a hand down on his shoulder and dragged him out of the chair.

Neil ended up between Dan and Andrew at their new table, put there by a stern-faced Wymack with a warning not to smash anything else. Evidently he didn’t that Kevin and Allison were good enough neighbours.

“To think that we thought you were the quiet type,” Dan said, bumping shoulders with him gently.

“Yeah, and I thought the same about you,” Neil replied, bumping her back. “What was Anna talking about?”

Dan clearly didn’t recognise the name, but she knew what he meant. “I’ll tell you later, kiddo. Don’t worry about it now.”

Neil was prepared to wait, seeing as Dan seemed unbothered. He turned instead to check on Kevin where he sat on Andrew’s other side and found his face pinched but as steady as they could reasonably expect, considering.

The dinner itself was fine now that their dining partners were professionals rather than Ravens. Renee, Nicky and Dan carried the conversation like nothing had happened, eventually pulling Kevin into their Exy-related discussion. No one talked to Neil, which was fine. Now that he had nothing to focus his adrenaline on, it was fizzing in his gut like anxiety. He kept finding himself gripping his keys in his pocket just to feel the familiar shape of them in his palm.

It didn’t seem right that they had focussed so intensely on the rest of the Foxes when they all knew how easy Kevin was to rattle. Neil didn’t know what that meant.

Once dinner was done, crews appeared to break down the tables and stack the chairs to clear room on the floor for activities. Even Neil, who had had a truly unconventional upbringing, found the dance floor and ice-breaker games familiar.

“Go be college kids,” Wymack commanded them. “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t start any more fights. _Wesninski_.”

“Yes, Coach,” Neil said dutifully, with the full knowledge that him starting fights was inevitable.

Most of the others seemed nearly eager to throw themselves into the crowd. Aaron and Katelyn headed straight for the dance floor, trailed by Nicky and his date, while Dan and Matt headed off in another direction together holding hands. Renee shot Neil a quick look and lead Allison away for some fresh air, seeing as Allison had thrown herself into drinking as soon as they had gotten away from the Ravens.

Neil would have felt bad abandoning his date if it were anyone else, but he remembered the naked challenge in Allison’s eyes as she looked at Riko. He knew she had it in her, and the troublemaker in him loved seeing it turned on their mutual object of hatred.

Unfortunately that left Neil with Kevin and Andrew, and an unamused Wymack.

“Tick tock,” Wymack said, gesturing to his watch. “Get out of here.”

Kevin heaved a deep breath and headed off with Neil and Andrew at his back. There was no shortage of people who wanted to talk to him, or gawk at him – this was a national champion and the subject of countless rumours in the last eight months. It stood to reason that people wanted to feel out the real Kevin Day. What they got was of course nothing like the real Kevin Day, seeing as he had his media-friendly face stuck firmly on.

They were also deeply curious about Neil, but Neil wasn’t interested in giving them anything but a bored look and maybe a handshake. No one bothered attempting to shake Andrew’s hand, which was wise. They were familiar enough with the terror that inhabited the Fox goal; their curiosity had been killed off.

Andrew did eventually run out of patience, retreating to the wall with Renee to watch them at a distance. Kevin watched him go and didn’t stop him, but he stayed inches closer to Neil as soon as Andrew stepped away from them.

They had been doing the rounds for a truly improbable amount of time for a pair of unsociable people when a voice behind them said, “Kevin Day.”

Before he even looked, Neil felt his blood hardening in his veins. He knew that voice as well as he knew his own – for five years, Tetsuji Moriyama had been his judge, jury, and sometimes executioner when he felt that Riko couldn’t do the job the way he liked. Neil had survived to be fourteen according to Tetsuji’s will. He hadn’t always been grateful for that over the next five years.

This was different though. Neil had never faced Tetsuji as the man who had gone to his older brother and made a bargain of his own. He also had Kevin on his team, Andrew’s eyes on him, and Allison at his shoulder where she had appeared like a bodyguard. That put them on a more even footing than master and glorified pet, even if it wasn’t much more.

Tetsuji looked the same as he had the last time Neil had seen him, elegantly dressed and ascetic. He held out his hand, and Kevin dropped his left one in it as obediently as a dog. The top of his palm had scarred white and ugly against his darker skin where the bones had protruded. Tetsuji looked at it pensively and said in Japanese, “This is a nasty mess.”

“It’s healing,” Kevin replied softly.

“I hope you realise what a fool you are being,” Tetsuji said, still holding Kevin’s hand like a truly concerned uncle. “The longer you stay away, the worse you make it for yourself. You know you can’t hold out forever.”

Each word was a blow, draining the life out of Kevin. He was so paralysed that he didn’t pull away until several seconds after Tetsuji stopped talking, and then he obviously couldn’t find a response anyway.

“Kevin. Go find Abby,” Neil said, in English rather than French. He didn’t want Kevin to have to hear Tetsuji say the words _come home_.

Kevin hesitated, looking at Neil and then around himself. It took Neil a second to realise that he wasn’t strong enough to leave by himself.

“Allison,” Neil prompted quietly, and watched as she grabbed Kevin’s wrist and nearly dragged him away.

“You overstep,” Tetsuji warned him in Japanese again, just as low.

Neil let a little smile creep onto his face. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Don’t let that trick you into thinking that you aren’t punishable. Do you like your new team? The blonde one and your new captain are both charming in their own way. You best be careful what you expose to them to.”

The threat made Neil boil inside, and his smile stretch bigger and sharper. “My father has his flaws, but he always did think it was more effective to just kill the people who needed killing, rather than threaten the people around them.”

“I should have let your father kill you when he killed your mother and had done.”

Neil tilted his head. “I think you are trying to upset me. I think you’re trying to make me angry enough to make a mistake. But I think you can pull the entire world down around my ears, and I’ll still find a way to turn it back on you,” he said, and then shrugged. “I’m stubborn that way.”

Tetsuji chuckled. “Nathaniel, Nathaniel. Do you really think that you can win all this? Do you think that Kevin can?”

“Yes,” Neil said, because it was the only answer to give.

Tetsuji gestured and Jean appeared at his side. He had a glass in each hand, one that he passed to his Master, and the other he held out to Neil. His gaze screamed warning but Neil took it anyway. He didn’t have any other choice.

If he could have poured this one on Tetsuji’s feet he would have. However, he doubted that he would survive that particular experience more than a few days. Tetsuji had once hit him for dripping blood on his shoes hard enough to shatter bone. It had only been a finger, so Neil had played anyway.

Tetsuji raised his glass to Neil. “A toast, then. May the best team win.”

“They will,” Neil said, tapping his against it and swallowing the drink. It was whiskey, dark and hot at the back of his throat, with a tinge of bitter chemicals left in his mouth once he had swallowed.

Tetsuji leaned a little closer and took the glass from Neil’s unresisting fingers. That was the evidence gone. “I don’t need to make you angry to induce you to make a mistake, Nathaniel. You aren’t as clever as you think.”

“I never claimed to be clever,” Neil said, because he knew he’d lost this particular battle but he still would have the last word if he could. “Just tenacious. Excuse me.”

He tried to make his escape look calm and measured, but he doubted that he achieved that. The Foxes were scattered, and none of them were close enough to stop him when he exited the court and headed for the warren of locker rooms and offices. It was near enough to the end of the night that security had moved, so he was free to check for empty rooms without anyone stopping him.

He didn’t have much time. Neil couldn’t trust that one of his old teammates wouldn’t come for him while he couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t trust his new teammates because he wasn’t entirely sure how, not when it came to this. The only safety he had was in running and hiding.

Time was already starting to run together by the time he found an unlocked office and dropped down into a darkened corner of it. His heart was trying to climb out of his chest, so he curled his arms around it like he could restrain it and ducked his head as though he had any hope of waiting this out.

He didn’t think Tetsuji would kill him like this, in a way that would arouse suspicions. He also knew that Riko had learned carelessness from someone, and it wasn’t either Kengo or Ichirou. The two of them didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He knew that you didn’t need to mean it to kill someone.

Someone touched their fingers to Neil’s where he was gripping himself, a touch so light he could have imagined it, as they said his name. Neil hit out instinctively and connected hard enough to make whomever it was grunt. He couldn’t really feel his fists, but that sound was unmistakeable.

“Stop that,” the person said, and Neil’s vision cleared enough to make out Andrew’s face. It was impossible for Neil to get a clear grip on his expression when all he could see were too many blurry hazel eyes. “What did he give you?”

“Some kind of – date-rape drug,” Neil slurred, and then laughed at the sick sliding of his own voice, and the stupidity of the term _date-rape_ used in relation to him. “Always the same. Where’s Kevin?”

That was – bad. Andrew was meant to be with Kevin. If neither of them were with Kevin, then Kevin could be in trouble. They were already in trouble.

“Be quiet,” Andrew said. He was looking at something bright – his phone? “Kevin is with Abby.” He sounded impatient enough that it probably wasn’t the first time he had said it, which meant Neil was losing time. That was bad. Neil was out of control.

“Please,” he heard himself say, the last light thing before a world of black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Andrew again.


	15. Chapter 15

Andrew didn’t like to think that he had misjudged someone, but he was struggling to keep his grip on Neil.

The man had a death wish. Andrew didn’t know anyone else who could be so afraid and so antagonistic at the same time. He seemed intent on committing suicide by Moriyama, and he wasn’t picky about which one. Both Riko and Tetsuji looked eager to oblige him.

Abby swept Kevin off the court to the bus where he could drink himself stupid in near-privacy, which left Andrew at loose ends. The Ravens were holding the older Foxes for ransom, but they were keeping their feet under them – Andrew had already seen Dan hit someone so hard in the balls that he’d crumpled. This wasn’t his problem; Renee had made the upperclassmen hers months ago.

He stood back instead and watched the Raven coach square off with his ex-backliner. It was five feet and change of aspiring shark versus a member of one of the most powerful criminal empires in the country. It might have been admirable if Neil weren’t setting himself up to lose.

When Jean appeared at Tetsuji’s side with those two glasses, Andrew already knew what was going to happen, the same way he knew that Neil wouldn’t hesitate to drink whatever it was despite knowing it was tainted. Andrew had already seen him do it once.

Andrew despised predictability. It was boring, and it got people killed.

That was how he justified going after Neil. That, and the look on Riko’s face when he and Andrew spoke the morning of Kathy Ferdinand’s show.

Sunday morning hadn’t seen the Foxes this rattled since Seth’s murder. Kevin hadn’t bothered to get up, crippled by a potent fear-and-booze hangover. Even Aaron was unsettled enough to stay close.

Abby kept Neil at her place overnight, but Nicky informed them that Allison had escorted him to Bee as soon as he was up and walking. Andrew wondered if the aftermath was bad enough that Neil needed gluing back together, and whether he’d chosen psychiatry or was still being forced into it.

Bee had asked him only once how things were between him and Neil since Neil’s first appointment, but Andrew refused to answer outright.

Neil had broken their deal, but his willingness to uphold his end for nothing puzzled Andrew. Anyone else Andrew would be able to dismiss; anyone else Andrew would have either fucked or fucked up and been done with. But Neil was dangerously impossible to ignore.

Using up everything in his toolkit this early on had forced him onto the back foot. Somehow he had gotten used to winning since signing with Wymack and he didn’t know how to process the return to status quo.

While Andrew thought that regret was a wasted emotion, by Sunday afternoon he was starting to question that belief. If he had just let the Ravens have Neil then he wouldn’t be feeling gritty-eyed from being kept awake listening to bitching on the ride back, after Wymack heaved Neil’s unconscious body onto the bus. Nor would he have to listen to Nicky recount the upperclassmen’s initial panic over their missing striker so many times Andrew finally retreated to the roof.

Neil probably had a splitting headache, but Andrew was the only one bruised this time. Neil’s fist had left a distinct blue splotch on his sternum. Just like Renee said – a good hook. The second part – _no killer instinct –_ Andrew wasn’t convinced.

There was something underneath Neil’s cast iron control, something Andrew had caught a glimpse of when Neil had held a knife to his femoral artery. Andrew had an attention span like an excited dog these days, but whatever it was in Neil kept grabbing his eye just as he went to look away.

He was onto his third cigarette when the door swung open behind him. That was interesting. Andrew had wrecked the lock months ago, but as far as he was aware the strict dorm rules kept the other inhabitants off of the roof. He never came across anyone else up here.

Of course it was the current bane of his existence. Andrew gave him an unwelcoming stare before he turned back to the view. Just looking out over the campus was enough for the most part; Andrew saved looking straight down between his hanging feet for the really bad days.

“I thought you were afraid of heights,” Neil said, voice hot with malice. Andrew didn’t bother answering.

He stepped up onto the concrete bollard at the edge of the roof a few meters away from where Andrew sat, toes in line with the drop off. Staring down, he looked like he was daring himself to fall. The parking lot stretched below them, a dizzying stretch of dark asphalt. Andrew felt his heart revving up without his permission.

“Long way down,” Neil commented, rocking heels-toes in his sneakers until they squeaked. “Probably quick, though.”

“Were you hoping to find out?” It sounded more like a threat than anything else.

Neil frowned pensively at his sneakers, balancing on his toes so his entire body turned to an elegant falling arrow a scant inch away from an actual fall. “Nah.”

He stepped back. Andrew’s breathing smoothed out as he regained enough of a hold to push it back down. That was normal; these days Andrew’s body did all kinds of things outside of his control.

“I really thought I was starting to understand you. But I remember enough from last night that I’ve had to re-evaluate. I’m not sure whether that’s because I’ve been listening too much to what the others say about you, or whether I need to stop listening to what _you_ say.”

Andrew’s ever-present grin turned to a smirk around his cigarette. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t protect me anymore,” Neil accused.

“If this if your version of gratitude, I would stop now.”

“I don’t owe you my _gratitude_.” The word sounded like poison from Neil’s mouth. He looked awful, blue carved into the hollows underneath his eyes and no trace of blood in his cheeks.

“Don’t you? Would you have preferred that Riko found you first?” Riko was never going to come looking, and they both knew that now in the light of day. Last night Neil hadn’t been convinced.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Neil snapped. “I broke our deal, and you agreed to it. That means if someone comes for me you need to let me stand on my own.”

“Last night you were cowering, not standing.”

“Last night I was out of my fucking mind. Let’s not pretend there was a whole lot of logic there.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed that you aren’t usually that fond of the word ‘please’.”

Neil went still at that. “ _Shut_ _up_.”

“Oh, so he has a thing about begging. Not surprising.”

Neil visibly restrained himself before he answered, like he desperately wanted to say something to flay Andrew’s skin off. “‘Please’ isn’t a pretty word for people like us.”

Andrew’s fingers tightened, curling in to his palm. It was irritating when Neil said things that were so right. “Are you just here to whine at me?”

“God, you were the one giving _me_ shit,” Neil muttered, just loud enough for Andrew to make out. He went on in a louder voice, “I know that Jean was there. I remember that much. What did he say?

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Jean played the part of Riko’s dog too well, still collared and chained even after Kevin and Neil had both broke loose. There was no way that Neil would have left Edgar Allen without Jean if there was even a chance to take Jean with him. Neil was the kind who liked carrying his useless baggage.

Jean crept into the room last night like a terrified animal, thinking that he could stand between Neil and Riko even though it would probably cost him more than he could afford. That pathetic display of near-courage had brought him into the room, but he hadn’t stayed too long once he had seen Andrew there – just long enough for him to say Neil’s name, and then flinch at the way Neil said _please_.

Andrew didn’t care for Jean Moreau.

Neil said, “Because I want to hear your opinion.” That was the truth too. More fool him.

“I think that Moreau summoned up the dregs of his bravery and thought he would be your white knight. Thankfully for you, he didn’t get the opportunity to find out how long those scraps would last before he gave up,” Andrew replied. “I could be wrong, though. Maybe he really just wanted to act out whatever it was that your team did to you all over again. Probably not: he doesn’t seem capable of that level of commitment.”

“They aren’t my team anymore.” Neil sounded like he was gritting his teeth. Whether it was the reference to the Ravens or the disparagement of Moreau Andrew wasn’t sure, but it was satisfying either way.

“No. But they are so keen to strip you of your control that they are getting sloppy.” Riko was no poster child for restraint, but to see Tetsuji involving himself so publicly was a different matter. Reynolds had been right – for people with a lot to lose, this branch of the Moriyamas were very keen to make their point against people with nothing on the line.

“They still think if they push hard enough I’m going to fold. I always did, eventually,” Neil said, with a tinge of bitterness. “They don’t know-”

He cut himself off brutally, but Andrew needed to hear that thought completed. “They don’t know what?”

“How much I want to stay,” Neil finished. That was the truth, too, as heavy as iron. Andrew could see now it wasn’t because of Kevin – all these weeks and Neil barely reached out to him, stymied by their history to the point he had gravitated to Reynolds instead. The others were putting money on the fact that Neil and Reynolds would get together, but Andrew knew better. Neil was still a Raven looking for a partner, afraid of being alone.

“Do you think you will get what you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” Neil said after a moment. “Do you?”

“I don’t want anything,” Andrew replied.

Neil didn’t look impressed. Andrew had hoped for more frustration, though. Kevin was much more satisfying in that regard. “Kevin told me weeks ago that he has something you want. I was sure it was just Kevin himself, but I changed my mind. And it’s not like he has anything else to offer except Exy. So if you want that, why won’t you try? Is it the drugs?”

“Oh, Neil, I didn’t care about Exy even before the drugs. Not everyone can live off of a sport like you. It’s pathetic.”

“Do you think lying about not wanting anything is somehow less so?”

It wasn’t a lie. _It wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t._ Andrew didn’t want anything because he couldn’t, and any thoughts where maybe he could were planted by Kevin’s endless stubbornness. Except for those times where he could almost imagine wanting to want something, a cold-sweet yearning in his chest that he always stamped out.

That wasn’t what Neil was saying, anyway. He obviously prescribed to the idea that humanity relied on desires and fulfilment, but Andrew was direct proof that you could still be alive while wanting nothing.

Andrew shrugged and blew out another cloud of smoke, uninterested in arguing it with another junkie.

“Truth for a truth,” he asked after another inhale and long exhale. “Where did you learn German?”

Neil’s mouth quirked. “Germany. Austria, too.”

“I didn’t think the Ravens let you out for sightseeing tours.”

“Nah,” Neil replied. “It must be my turn, right?”

Andrew didn’t say anything to dissuade him, so he went on, “Why is this team split in two?”

That sounded like the kind of question where Neil didn’t really care about the answer. “They did that themselves,” Andrew replied.

“No, they didn’t. Nicky at least is desperate for something besides socialising with you lot but he still sticks close. You hate Katelyn more than I’ve seen you hate anything, so Aaron keeps his distance. You have a stranglehold on them so tight they won’t even crack the door open for the others, so you must have something they all want desperately.”

“Interesting observations. Why do you care?”

“Because, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m going to make this team work like a team this year if it kills me.”

“It might.” _I might. Let’s not make that necessary._ “I don’t think you’ll be able to take an inch from them, never mind from me.”

Whatever you could say about Andrew’s relationships with Aaron and Nicky and Kevin, they were stable. They couldn’t be anything else when they had all shackled themselves together. Not that it did any good to tell that to the man who had chewed his own hand off to get free of his.

“Why?” Andrew asked.

“Because on October 13th I’m going to show Riko and Tetsuji that they can’t drive me off by threatening me. If they are really interested in putting me on my knees for good – and Kevin, too – then they are going to have to make it happen on the court, Ravens against Foxes. And I won’t make it easy for them.”

Andrew hummed. Not just a partner, then: Neil wanted a team. “I can’t decide whether that tenacity is admirable or stupid. Either way, don’t expect my cooperation.”

Neil said, “I don’t pretend to understand the way you think. If you need to make it that way for it to be justifiable, then fine.”

That gave Andrew pause. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, don’t make it into a fight. Just let me ask you,” Neil said. “All I want from you is a yes or a no.”

“The illusion of having a choice is no better than being denied it entirely,” Andrew pointed out, because Andrew’s _no_ meant nothing to a man obsessed.

“It’s not an illusion. It’s just that both of us know you don’t have a reason to refuse,” Neil said. “Don’t pretend that I’m backing you into a corner when there’s clear air behind you. Will you let me ask? You can ask for something from me in return.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to owe me.”

“Fine,” Neil replied, without pausing to think about it.

“You don’t know what you are signing yourself up for,” Andrew informed him. Neil’s agreement left him wide open for everything Andrew could dream up. That wasn’t much, but Neil didn’t know that.

Or perhaps he did. He said, “It wouldn’t be that way. Not for you. You wouldn’t ask me for something that you knew I couldn’t give you, and I think you realise that I’m not so honourable that I wouldn’t refuse to do something horrible just because you asked.”

“Ask me then,” Andrew said, a gauntlet thrown to the concrete between them. There were so many ways Neil could have worded it so Andrew could have said no without a thought.

Instead he said, “Will you trust me with their loyalty?”

Neil was asking Andrew to loosen the leash and trust that Neil would bind them tighter together rather than finally break them apart. Either Andrew was getting transparent, or Neil was even more intelligent than he had suspected.

Andrew smiled. “Yes. But don’t think having my consent means that they will make it easy for you.” Nicky would because he was desperate for a family, and Kevin might consider it for the strength of the team if he could reconcile himself with Neil rather than Nathaniel. Even if they were convincible, though, Aaron would be the rock that Neil would dash his ship on. He had taken Andrew’s warning not to get close to people to heart, and he did it with all of the simmering resentment he wanted to show to Andrew but wouldn’t. He also hated Neil as much as Andrew did.

“I’ve always liked a challenge,” Neil said with the shadow of a smile. “When you figure out what kind of question I owe you an answer to, make sure to ask.”

His smugness was even more irritating than his persistence. Andrew flicked his cigarette over the side and said, “Go away.”

He didn’t watch Neil pivot on the roof and leave, too busy lighting another cigarette. The first indrawn breath this time was no relief so he flicked that smoke too, and then lit another. By the time he felt like he had gotten a proper inhale, he had lit three more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading (and commenting! I know I'm slack compared to like...every other writer on ao3 about replying but I love and appreciate every single comment).
> 
> Next: Foxes v. Ravens


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Iris for beta-ing - I by now owe my firstborn or maybe my life to you.

Neil was content to pretend the Ravens game was all about personal vendettas until he saw the posters pinned up across campus. Someone with a bit of artistic flair had found game shots of Kevin and Neil as well as Jean and Riko and cut them into one picture, and then emblazoned it with game information in orange and black. Neil would have ripped down every one if Dan and Wymack hadn’t explicitly forbidden him from doing so.

Their season so far had been impressive; enough so that support for the Foxes had exploded. Neil was pleased for the upperclassmen, but he half-wished that they had stayed in obscurity. There was no way that they weren’t going to be destroyed tonight, and a bigger home crowd wasn’t going to help them.

The excitement had all the Foxes on edge, but none more so than Neil and Kevin. The media representation of them as two ex-Ravens facing off their former team painted it like more of a fair fight than it was, considering one of them had swapped positions only months ago and the other was playing with his non-dominant hand. The weight of their expectations was crushing. The idea of facing their old teammates again so soon after the disaster at the banquet only exacerbated that.

Neil spent Thursday night on Wymack’s couch, leaving their suite to Matt and Dan. Wymack was a heavy sleeper, so the only person Neil’s restlessness disturbed was himself.

Kevin was dead silent during practice on Friday morning. Neil kept any comments to himself this time, knowing he didn’t have the energy today to wrestle both Kevin’s demons and his own. When Wymack called them to the stadium instead of making them go to afternoon classes, the two of them sat in the inner ring and didn’t say a word to each other until Matt fetched them in for an early dinner.

Dan made Neil do one last run through of the Raven line up with her for the others once they had eaten. It wouldn’t make any difference now after the weeks they’d spent trying to identify exploitable weaknesses without finding any, but it was marginally better than being left alone with his thoughts.

As they walked through the Raven roster, all he could think was how he had lived that way for years. Raven synchronicity, bred from being confined in the Nest, was as familiar as his own name. No one except Kevin understood what it took to leave that terrible and familiar hive-mind behind. That was what won the Ravens games even if it cost them their individuality and free will, and Neil still wasn’t certain that his deal had been a good trade-off.

The fact of the matter was that despite how sure Neil had sounded when he asked Andrew for permission to make the Foxes functional, he didn’t really know how a functional team worked. All he knew was forced proximity, obsession and punishment over eighteen hour days. He just had to hope that his instincts were good.

The tens of thousands of people flowing into the stadium over their heads sounded like distant rolling thunder. They changed out and joined Wymack in the foyer, where Kevin immediately knotted his fingers into the net of one of his racquets like that could ground him.  

“Can you do this, Kevin?” Abby asked him softly, her eyes searching his face.

“This is our game too,” Kevin said, throwing Neil a lightning quick glance like he was reassuring himself that Neil was there at his back.

Wymack pulled them in then for a pre-game rundown. In an ideal world, Dan would have been playing as a dealer like she was supposed to. In this one, Wymack couldn’t afford to trust that his offense line wouldn’t crumble because of the Ravens, so Dan was still playing as their sub while Renee subbed for Allison. Neil’s unspoken goal for the game was to make that unnecessary.

Well, he had told one person, but Betsy didn’t really count. She didn’t care about Exy, but Neil’s appointment this week had been a half-hour of him talking through every aspect of this game. Neil was still feeling sore that they had tried to make him take a blood test for proof that he had been roofied when there was no point – nothing would stick to the Moriyamas. Neil would likely come out of the situation looking worse.

The warning buzzer went off, making him and half of the team jump. Wymack called them into an orderly line with a brisk clap of his hands.

“Let’s do this,” he said. “I spent half a lifetime stocking Abby’s fridge this morning, so the sooner we’re finished the sooner we can all get stupidly drunk at her place.”

That was enough to make most of the Foxes smile. Kevin was the obvious exception, wan and serious. Hopefully Andrew would keep him from getting alcohol poisoning tonight.

The noise when they entered the court to warm up could have driven Neil to his knees if he wasn’t utterly detached from it. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, and all he could see were the lines of the court and its walls as they ran laps inside. The haze of orange-and-black audience was at the periphery of his awareness.

This time Riko managed to offer a handshake that Dan would accept, probably only because the referees were standing over them. Neil knew that Dan was beyond furious about what had happened to him at the banquet, but her smile was almost civil as she crushed Riko’s hand.

The Ravens won starting serve, and the Foxes took home goal. As the Foxes lined up at the door, Neil concentrated on the court floor, the hyper focus blotting out the madness above him. He only heard vaguely the tenfold increase when the announcer said Kevin’s name.

Wymack stopped Neil at the door as they were announcing him. “Do I need to say it?”

“Probably,” Neil replied, bumping the end of his racquet against the floor in a staccato rhythm. “Give me the basics. There’s a lot to choose from.”

“Be careful. We can’t afford red cards tonight. And for the love of God, do not antagonise Riko Moriyama,” Wymack replied, after rolling his eyes at Neil. “I’ll sub you off if you need it. Otherwise, hit them like you know how.”

Neil offered him a salute with his free hand before walking onto the court with his racquet slung over his shoulder. It was sign of how successful the advertising for the game was when his entrance was greeted with the same intensity as Kevin’s. To everyone who wasn’t in orange, Neil was a Raven. He was keen to prove them wrong.

Riko took the court like he was on home turf – rather than go directly to his starting position, he headed straight towards Kevin with his helmet under his arm. The crowd went wild. Kevin pulled his helmet off, disarmed like he always was by Riko. There was no way for Neil to make out what either of them said over the sound of the audience, but he could see the miniscule tightening in Kevin’s media face.

After a long moment Riko reached out and clasped Kevin in a one-armed hugged. Kevin was just as slow to return it as he had been on Kathy’s show, except this time he had the excuse of having his hands full with his racquet and helmet. The fans went berserk, no matter what colour they were wearing.

Riko was doing this to throw Kevin off, and it was working. When Riko pulled away and walked off, he left Kevin frozen in his wake.

Neil smashed his racquet down, not caring if it splintered on the floor. The heavy shaft reverberated satisfyingly in his hands, and the sound of it jerked Kevin back to life. He finally put his helmet back on, waving to the referees to signal his readiness. Behind them Andrew was tapping a rapid rhythm on the wall, energetic since he was still riding out the tail end of his drugs. Hopefully he could hold onto that for as long as possible, because tonight they needed him.

Rivka was the last one on for the Ravens. Kevin was facing off against Jean, and Anna was Neil’s mark. Neil allowed himself one careful look over all of the familiar faces under their helmets before he shut that part down, letting the balance of his racquet and the countdown to serve wash everything else away.

The starting buzzer brought him back like a jolt to the heart, and he bolted down the court. The Raven dealer threw the ball straight at home court, which Allison caught on the rebound and flicked to Andrew for him to hit away. It flew straight between Kevin and Neil towards the Raven goal, and they both ran for it.

Jean caught it first, being the taller one, and the fight for possession turned nasty so fast that even Neil was surprised. He hadn’t thought that Kevin would hold back because of Jean, but the strength of Kevin’s furious shouldering was impressive. He stole the ball and hurled it into Neil’s net right before Jean knocked him over.

Neil didn’t have to move to take the ball; he and Kevin practiced that pass so many times at night that both of them could have done it with their eyes closed. Before he could move with it, Anna slammed her stick into his hard enough that pain shot through both of his wrists, and then she smashed him flat with a neat hit in the middle of the sternum.

Neil landed so hard he rolled, breath rattling out of his lungs. He came up on one knee and was running in a second, but Anna had already thrown the ball down the court to Riko’s partner. The ball flashed between them lightning fast and then Riko was sidestepping Nicky and pulling back to shoot. He had gotten so close to the goal so quickly that the Fox backliners were reeling behind him.

Neil expected to see the goal go red, but instead Andrew was in Riko’s face, hammering the ball away. Allison snatched it from the air and then lost it in a tussle with the Ravens’ dealer. Johnson, the other Raven striker, caught it and fired another hit that Aaron smacked away – only for Riko to leap and grab it. They were too close this time, and Andrew missed the third attempt on goal by an inch.

It had been three minutes. Neil doubted anyone had scored against Andrew that quickly before. The man himself was standing against the lit goal, utterly motionless as he watched the colour fade.

Riko, who should have been moving back up towards his starting point, was still close enough to the goal that he could say something to Andrew. Andrew adjusted his racquet where he had slung it over his shoulder. He answered, out of Neil’s hearing range. After a second he heard Allison’s higher voice over the low roar of the crowd, and Riko turned away after throwing her a glance.

“Are you feeling humiliated yet, Nathaniel?” Johnson asked as he took his spot. “You are already proving the Master right about the worth of your team.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Neil recommended, though he would have preferred to sweep Johnson’s feet out from under him with his racquet.

Allison served to Andrew again, and this time his hit was almost as accurate as a Raven’s. Kevin caught it and fired it directly to Neil before Jean could take him out.

Anna knew a lot about Neil, but she had never seen him play as a striker outside of footage of Fox games. Whatever she was expecting from him, it obviously wasn’t for him to simply slam her over and run while she was down. Neil was far enough down the court that ten large strides put him well within shooting range, but he would have appreciated being able to pass to Kevin if Kevin wasn’t still down the court fighting to get clear of Jean.

Rivka was the only obstacle left in his path, a behemoth in the goal compared to Andrew or Renee. Neil knew Rivka was fast and powerful, but Neil was both of those things, and angry as well. This was the man who had dared to put something in his drink at an ERC-run event in front of a table full of potential witnesses.

Neil feinted, light as air, and then threw the ball so hard at the goal that after it lit up he caught his own rebound. Anna, who had been running up behind him, came to a screeching halt at his heels.

“Lucky shot,” she hissed into his ear. Neil tipped the ball out of his racquet straight onto the floor at her feet rather than doing a proper handover to the dealer just for the petty satisfaction of watching her scramble for it.

“It’s not luck if you’re good,” he shot over his shoulder. He and Kevin clacked sticks hard enough to hurt a little.

The Ravens spent most of the next fifteen minutes in possession, but they couldn’t get around Andrew. Neil had seen by now why Kevin was so desperate to have Andrew in his goal, but it was impressive to see him deny shot after perfectly aimed shot even as Nicky and Aaron struggled in front of him.

It couldn’t last, though. There was no way that Andrew could hold out.

It was a relief when Wymack finally sent on Matt to take Nicky’s place. He was grinning, delighted to be marking Riko. Neil hoped that Wymack had given him the same warning about not getting red-carded, because he looked to be spoiling for a fight.

Matt made an immediate difference, stealing the ball from Riko in a stunning full-strength collision before sending it Neil’s way. Anna was right in his path and waiting, so he feinted like he was going to run and then threw it to Kevin just as he outstepped Jean. Jean was taller, but months of training one-on-one with Neil meant Kevin was quicker. He bolted for the goal and scored with a sweet shot that Rivka didn’t have a hope of catching.

Neil, who had run down towards the away goal in case he was needed, was close enough to say, “Looks like you’re getting slower.” Rivka snarled wordlessly but didn’t come after him.

That goal put the Foxes in the lead, and also spelled the end of any remaining sportsmanship from the Ravens. The game went from brutally fast to just plain brutal as the slower Fox players caught the brunt of their marks putting them on the floor. Their lead didn’t last long, either – as many goals as Kevin and Neil could score between the two of them, they couldn’t keep up with the Raven strikers.

Their defensive line was being overrun, and it was frustrating to watch them struggle so badly. Neil wanted to be back there with Matt – they hadn’t played together like that, but Matt was good and Neil was better, and they could have shut the Ravens out with Andrew at their backs.

Neil had known that the Ravens would do their best to make the Foxes look like clumsy amateurs, but it was worse to see it happen in reality. By the time the first half ended, Abby was on the court almost as often as her players, and the score was five-seven. It was respectable, but there was no way that they could maintain it. Neil was playing out of his skin, but he was already hurting all over and he suspected the others were feeling the same.

Second half started as dirty as the first had finished. Neil was fast and familiar enough with Raven defence to avoid the worst of it, but even he couldn’t outstep all the hits. With a fresh set of backliners marking them, Neil and Kevin’s score rate dropped, while the Raven strikers made the most of the tiring Fox defensive line.

They were holding their own, though. That had to be enough.

Riko came back on for the last quarter of the game, as did Jean. Surprisingly, Jean was his mark now, rather than staying on Kevin. He didn’t have time to wonder; he was busy watching the ball pass down the court, into Riko’s net, and then into the goal an inch from Andrew’s racquet.

Riko must have said something as he came back up the court – there was no way that Allison would have gone after him like she did otherwise. She threw her racquet aside and hit him so hard that he staggered, forgoing a punch and just driving into him with her shoulder so they both went down.

Johnson and Matt joined in a second later, and then the Raven dealer and Aaron piled on. Neil shot Andrew a quick glance and found him still in his goal.

Without Dan on the court, no one but the refs would step in to stop the fight rather than escalate it. They weren’t getting the doors open quick enough, so Neil ran to wrestle Allison out of the fray. She fought Neil until she realised it was him. She snarled, “ _Fuck you,_ ” at Riko, blood from her split lip on her chin.

As soon as she was extracted, Aaron and Matt backed off, and the refs were there waiting. Allison was given a red card for the seemingly unprovoked check, and the three Ravens all walked away without one. Neil had to pull Matt back from making a comment to the refs which would have seen him issued with another yellow.   They both knew it wasn’t fair, but they couldn’t afford to lose him. Neil shoved him back towards his spot, and in the process happened to look up and see Andrew.

There was every chance that Andrew would have stayed in goal either way, rather than wade into the fight when most of the Foxes involved weren’t his. This time even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have. The way the Ravens were pushing had taken its toll: he’d dropped his racquet and was on one knee. He wasn’t the only one – Kevin was using the pause in play to catch his breath too, but Andrew normally didn’t need to.

Renee was in the doorway ready to step on the court as Allison came off it. There was no way it was going to work – Renee wasn’t a good enough dealer, and Andrew wasn’t going to be able to hold out. Wymack kept her back, his eyes fixed on Neil.

Neil looked across the court to the goal once more and then bolted for the door, overtaking Allison on the way. By the time he made it over Dan was waiting for him with Wymack and Renee, with a referee hovering behind them. Neil skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Send Dan on for Allison, and Renee for Andrew,” he said. It didn’t matter that there were only twenty minutes left to play – if they didn’t have a functional goalkeeper then they would bleed goals to the Ravens, and while Renee wasn’t as good as Andrew, she was the only one of them who could keep her feet right now. They might not win, but at this point Neil would settle for a loss that wasn’t completely shameful.

That the Foxes had gone this far was admirable: Neil wanted to see them end it like this.

“She’s not geared up for goal,” Dan protested.

“I can be,” Renee said, though she was still looking at Neil. “I just need a minute to change.”

They didn’t have time to argue it. If they waited too long, they would be penalised for holding up play.

“Go,” Wymack said. “Go, go, go.”

Once she’d left at a jog, he turned to the two of them. “Dan, you’re on. Neil, get Andrew off.”

Neil clashed sticks with Dan and they set off across the court together. Neil left Dan at first fourth and kept going to the goal. Andrew had gotten to his feet and had an arm balanced over his racquet. It looked casual, but Neil was willing to bet that he was leaning most of his weight on it.

“You’re off,” Neil said to him as soon as he was close enough. He threw a glance over his shoulder to determine that Renee was on her way onto the court, doing up her helmet.

Andrew didn’t move an inch. He smiled a little, his face all hard lines drawn by pain. “Am I? I didn’t realise that you were in charge now.”

“Do I have to ask nicely?”

“You could try.”

Despite himself, Neil chuckled. “So, do you want to be here, or not?” It was just blind determination that was keeping Andrew on the court now, the same thing keeping him on his feet at all.

“No,” Andrew said, and bumped shoulders hard enough with Neil to make him stumble as he started to walk towards the door. Neil turned and trailed him up the court before peeling away to take his spot. He was facing off with Riko, who had Jean behind him.

“I thought it was just Kevin who had a soft spot for that wretched goalkeeper,” Riko murmured once his was in earshot. It was the first thing he’d said to Neil all game. Neil looked up and met his eye, and then Jean’s over his shoulder.

“I recognise that caring for your teammates might be a foreign concept to you, Moriyama, but it isn’t for all of us,” he replied, putting every scrap of scorn into his voice.

“Your sentimentality is more curse than blessing. Don’t you think you’ve cost your team enough already?” He didn’t just mean the Foxes – his near-invisible head tilt indicated Jean as well. Neil’s skin crawled with anger at the casual threat, and the poorly hidden pleasure in Riko’s voice. He pushed it down, stretching for cold amusement instead.

“Are you so sure that you can’t beat us fairly that you feel you have to eliminate us off of the court?” Neil asked, letting a hint of a smirk creep over his face. The buzzer to restart went off just as Riko opened his mouth, sending the two of them to opposite sides of the court.

The effect on the Foxes of having their captain on the court was unmistakeable. They might have been flagging, but Dan was purposeful and energetic enough that even Neil felt a little better just at the sight of her. His mood only improved once play resumed: Dan was fresh enough that her focussed support of her backliners made a discernible difference in keeping the Ravens out.

Renee, who had played the end of first half as dealer but otherwise been on the bench, did superbly in her home position. She had to concede points, with the rate of shots on goal being so high, but she made sure they weren’t given for free.

Neil too was fighting harder than he had been all night. He was almost drained dry, and Jean was essentially fresh by comparison. Neil knew Jean’s style of play as well as he knew his own, perhaps better, but he had never played against him. The foot of height difference alone meant that Neil barely touched the ball for the next ten minutes.

The clock ticked down.

With three minutes left of the game, Dan threw the ball down the court so it bounced right in front of Neil’s face. He snatched it and ran, looking for Kevin to pass to. He was right there, and muscle memory took over – the ball got to Kevin without a conscious decision on Neil’s part. Kevin took it and ran, but he couldn’t have gone far.

Neil didn’t get a chance to see, because he realised at the last second that in his desperation to score again, he had just put himself in the worst position possible. Then all of Jean’s six feet and three inches slammed into his side, grinding him against the wall.

Jean stayed there for an instant, his entire body weight leaning against Neil, before he was ripped away. Kevin sent him reeling across the court and went after him. Neil slid down the wall onto his heels, gasping to get his breath back where Jean had driven it out of him.

The panic was right there, waiting to freeze his chest and turn his thoughts to shrieking static. Neil hadn’t sat through session after session with Betsy to let that happen. He hadn’t gotten this far through the game for it to end that way.

He might have to apologise to her after this for all the times he had mentally denigrated the field of psychiatry. They’d spoken about grounding techniques, using his senses to get out of his head. He just barely held onto the sound of the crowd, the court floor hurting his knees, and Dan’s voice like anchors.

“Neil,” she was saying. When he reached out and grabbed the hand she hovered over his shoulder, the look of relief on her face was staggering. He let her pull him to his feet and balance him until he could keep himself upright.

“You’re a tough little shit,” she informed him, half reassuring and half fiercely proud. “Just a few more minutes, okay? We’re going to get a penalty, he was outside two seconds.”

She was right – Jean had waited too long after he’d passed the ball to hit him, a rookie mistake that took him out of the game for the night. He threw a look over his shoulder to Neil and then to Riko as he walked off the court. It was telling, and made the fact that Neil was still upright even more satisfying.

Neil could barely see straight or hold his racquet, but he’d played in worse shape with much lower stakes than this. He gave himself a few seconds to breathe, and then put the ball down into the bottom corner of the goal.

It wasn’t enough. The final score of thirteen to nine was painful to look at: it was the most goals the Foxes had conceded in a long time, and their first loss after a long winning streak. However, it was also an improbably high number of goals that they had wrestled from the Raven defensive line.

Neil looked up at the scoreboard as he rested his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. He had just played through an entire game as a striker against his old team. It was surreal to be in one piece after that.

Of course, Riko couldn’t be satisfied leaving Neil that way. The other Foxes had started to move to the centre of their half of the court to regroup, but Neil’s pause left him a slow gazelle to the circling lions.

“Still so fearful, Nathaniel. Just like your mother,” Riko said from a meter away.

It was a cheap shot, but effective. Neil would have hit him in the face, heedless of everything and everyone else, if a broad hand hadn’t clamped down on his shoulder.

“Riko,” Kevin said, sounding deathly calm. Riko’s attention was instantly diverted.

“A long fall from grace and a hard landing for the mighty Kevin Day, don’t you think?” he asked, gesturing across the court. “I’m embarrassed on your behalf.”

“I’m satisfied,” Kevin replied.

Riko’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “ _Satisfied?_ ”

“Yes,” Kevin confirmed. “Not with their performance, but there’s enough here for me to work with.”

“You _lost_.” The word sounded terrible off of his tongue, the same way it always had. It was comforting to know that Riko still found the idea of loss so disgusting.

“Yes. We knew we would. There’s no way for the Foxes to beat an established team like the Ravens,” Kevin said, and then, “Yet.”

That was why. Riko was afraid to lose, and his fear made it easy to know how to hurt him the most.

“We’ll see you in the spring,” Kevin continued. Neil was the only one who could feel the rigidity in his fingers that gave away how frightened he really was. “Thank you for the game tonight.”

He and Neil turned away together to head back towards their teammates, Kevin still gripping at him.

“Shit,” Kevin hissed through his teeth. Underneath that constrained civility was panic.

“You sound like Jeremy Knox,” Neil said, half-hysterical. “ _Thank you for the game._ Jesus.”

“Moral high ground,” Kevin replied before they joined the huddle of Foxes. It had to be the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of his mouth, but it was completely Kevin Day – the one who admired the honourable and fair Trojans, the one who hated the way the Ravens worked, and certainly the one who knew exactly how to needle Riko on the rare occasion he was courageous enough to try.

The Foxes were mute with disappointment and exhaustion as they changed out, but their spirits rose by the time they had eaten and drunk their fill at Abby’s. Neil didn’t eat much, still a little nauseous after his near miss. While the others were distracted, he crept out onto Abby’s porch. It was chilly enough for him to shove his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the balustrade and looked into the pitch-dark of the backyard.

After a few minutes of silence, Neil was interrupted by a purposeful footstep on wood. Wymack settled against the doorframe, his gaze piercing.

Neil wasn’t sure what he expected Wymack to say, but it wasn’t, “Quick thinking today.”

It took him a second to realise that he meant the swaps on court. He shrugged a little. “It was sensible.”

“It was clever,” Wymack emphasized. “You get leadership training at Edgar Allen?”

Neil smiled despite himself – the Ravens had a monarchy, not a democracy. “No, Coach.”

“Hm,” Wymack acknowledged. “I wondered if you were going to be a good fit for this team, but you keep surprising me.”

Neil looked at him in silent question, but Wymack shook his head rather than going on. “Don’t stay out here too long.”

Neil didn’t – he followed Wymack back in a couple of minutes later with steadier hands and a quieter mind. The others all glanced to him when he returned, but their mild concern was comforting rather than irritating. This was his team, warm and stubborn and a little tipsy: this was where he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting, I love you guys <3
> 
> Next: Higgins and Halloween.


	17. Chapter 17

Neil didn’t have to make the next move in his plan to bring the two halves of the Foxes together, because Kevin ended up texting him to extend an invitation to the Halloween party at Eden’s Twilight. He wasn’t surprised: he thought after the game that Kevin might fulfil Renee’s premonition. He could still feel the imprint of Kevin’s grip on his shoulder.

Neil’s immediate reaction was to send back; _if the others can come._

**_I think you already know the answer_ ,** Kevin replied. Neil rolled his eyes.

_Then no._

**_I’m not going to ask him that_.**

Feeling bold, Neil rang him rather than reply. Kevin answered straight after the first ring with a brisk, “Neil.”

“Put him on the phone, then,” Neil said.

“What?”

“If you’re that sure Andrew will say no to you, I’ll ask him myself. Put him on the phone.”

Kevin huffed, and then there was the sound of scuffling and the mutter of voices – Kevin’s, and then Nicky’s distinctive yelp.

“Hello, Neil,” Andrew said after a moment. His smile was audible. “Are you coming to Columbia again?”

“Only if I can bring the others,” Neil replied.

“The upperclassmen don’t want to come,” Andrew said. There was a screech of plastic on metal on his end of the line that made Neil wince. “Once was probably enough for them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“I will,” Neil replied. “I’m just interested in hearing your perspective.”

Andrew laughed delightedly. “Oh, no, I don’t think you are. I think that you think you can appeal to my better nature by pretending to care about my opinion. Joke’s on you – I don’t have a better nature, and the only way our stories will differ is if they lie to you.”

“You think _that’s_ why I asked?” Neil said with a shrug Andrew couldn’t see. There was something in Andrew’s voice under the laugh, though it took Neil a moment to sort through what it was he was hearing. “I know you aren’t a liar.”

“Ask them. Then tell them to come, if they’re brave enough,” Andrew said, and hung up on him. It was unsurprising: Andrew wasn’t the type to tell other people’s secrets. Neil doubted that the others would lie to him anyway, but there was something reassuring about Andrew’s steadfast honesty even when it got ugly.

Neil, who was lying on the floor at the feet of the upperclassmen on a pile of cushions and a quilt off of Renee’s bed, looked up the girls in their neat row of three on the couch. “You guys want to go to a party on the 27th?”

They looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before Matt said, “Where?”

“Eden’s Twilight, in Columbia. It’ll mean going with Andrew’s lot though-”

“ _What_?” Dan asked, gobsmacked. “Did they invite you? Is that what that was about?”

“Not like it’s my usual scene, is it?” Neil replied. Matt chuckled from where he was sitting perpendicular to Neil, with his back against the arm of the couch.

“So Andrew said we could come?” Dan asked, leaning forward to see Neil better.

“Partying with the monsters. Sounds dangerous,” Allison mused. Renee was in the process of braiding her hair into an intricate design and hummed in vague disapproval when Allison turned enough to look at Neil from the corner of her eye. “Let’s do it.”

Dan shot her a look. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t done it before.”

“Hell yeah I am. I’m curious.”

Neil’s phone buzzed again, and he made a face as he read the message. “Apparently we need costumes too.”

That sealed it for Allison, but Dan still looked unsure. Matt turned his head up on an awkward angle so he could see Dan’s face above him.

“If you’re thinking of saying no on my account, don’t bother,” he said gently, bumping her knee with his shoulder. “You know that what they get up to doesn’t worry me.”

Neil leant up on his elbows so he could look at Matt properly. “He did imply that you guys would be the ones less inclined to agree. What did he mean?”

“I know you’ve seen these,” Matt said, twisting one arm so Neil could see the track marks there. Neil nodded; they were impossible to miss even if you didn’t know what you were looking at, and Matt made no effort to cover them. “My father got me into all the shit that the rich fuck-ups were doing. Mom put me through rehab before I signed with the Foxes, but I had a rough time of it at first. A bunch of the guys on the team at the time were using and it was one hell of a temptation being surrounded by that.”

“He slept on our couch for weeks,” Allison volunteered without looking up from her phone. “It was pathetic.”

Dan glared at her but Matt just smiled. “Yeah, it was. Anyway, I wasn’t the only one who was barely staying clean. Apparently Aaron didn’t have as good of a hold on his sobriety as Andrew would have liked, so Andrew stepped in.”

Andrew had mentioned that about Aaron, Neil remembered now. _She beat him and got him hooked on drugs. He says I ruined his life, like she hadn’t already done that for him._ “What did he do, exactly?”

“Gave him speedballs,” Dan said, her voice full of old anger.

Neil was intimately familiar with Andrew’s way of approaching things, so he wasn’t surprised. It still made his stomach drop though – that was a hell of a lot harder than cracker dust.

“He offered,” Matt corrected. “He knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.”

“I don’t want to downplay that, but it must have worked for you to be here now,” Neil commented.

“You would say that. I mean, at least I didn’t let him beat me up in the hope of curing my issues,” Matt replied, though he looked amused. “Let’s just say that it certainly strengthened my resolve. I’ve been clean ever since. And hey, I got lucky to have someone to stick with me through it.”

He turned and kissed Dan’s bare knee lightly, jostling her again to try and shake away her expression.

She said, “It was overkill, and dangerous. He would have been dropped off the team so fast his head would have spun if Matt’s mom hadn’t given him permission.”

That was a little mind-bending; Neil couldn’t imagine a woman who would allow that to be done to her recovering addict of a son, even if she really thought it would work. He also couldn’t imagine someone who would agree to let Andrew Minyard try.

“Can’t argue with the results,” Matt said lightly. It sounded like a conversation they’d had before plenty of times.

“He knew that Matt would recover. There was too much effort to put in for it to backfire. And I think it was hard for Andrew too, in his own way,” Renee said quietly. “He doesn’t have a choice about his addiction. He can’t fight it.”

“I don’t care,” Dan huffed, which was mostly a lie. Dan might not have liked Andrew, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care for his welfare. He was a Fox, too.

“We should go,” Matt said. “I mean, how many opportunities do we really get to socialise with the monsters?”

Dan turned to give Neil a long look. “Is it a good idea? With you and Andrew, I mean.”

“What about me and Andrew?”

“I was under the impression that you two were on the brink of killing one another.”

Neil shrugged. “He agreed to let me work on bringing the others around.”

All four of them stared at him again. Dan’s mouth was slightly agape. She asked, “How did you make him agree?”

“I asked him,” Neil replied. Renee smiled, though she shielded it from the others behind Allison’s shoulder.       

They didn’t get to quiz him any more because they were interrupted by a sharp and official-sounding knock at the door. Neil jolted upright in surprise – they weren’t expecting any visitors, and the other athletes in the Tower usually stayed away from the volatile Exy line wherever possible.

Dan scrambled up to get it. She only half opened the door at first to shield the inside of the room from view, so all Neil saw were a pair of boots behind Dan’s socked feet.

“You the Exy captain?” whoever it was asked.

“Yeah,” Dan replied, her voice bristling with suspicion. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m Detective Phil Higgins, and I’m hoping to have a chat with Andrew. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Mixed feelings for Andrew aside, Dan was already on the offensive. “A chat about what?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. It’s tied up in an active investigation.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” Neil said before he thought about it. “Otherwise this would be an official visit, and it’s not.”

Dan swung the door a little wider so that Neil could see out and Higgins could look in. Higgins looked like a cop down to the casual lean of his body in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. He eyed Neil from top to toe and then smirked.

“You a lawyer?” Higgins asked.

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?”

Dan shot him a quelling look but said, “He does have a point.”

“I’m from Oakland PD, so this isn’t my jurisdiction. I need Andrew’s help. That’s why I’m here,” Higgins replied.

“He isn’t on campus right now,” Renee said.

“I’ll wait,” Higgins answered immediately. That was fair – it was a long way from California to here. There wasn’t much point making the trip just to be turned away on their doorstep.

“Maybe grab a coffee at the library café,” Dan recommended. “Here, give me your number and I’ll let you know when they’re on the way back.”

“It’s fine, Dan,” Neil cut in, climbing off of the floor. “I’ll go and show him the way. One of them will let me know when they’re on the way.”

Higgins nodded like that was okay, but his gaze wasn’t quite so nonchalant. He was obviously intelligent enough to know that Neil was volunteering out of more than just genuine good will.

Allison stretched out her leg to prod the back of Neil’s calf with her toe as he shuffled past her. “Make sure you don’t stick your nose somewhere it’ll get cut off,” she recommended. Neil made a face at her as he shoved his feet into his shoes.

Outside it was cool enough that Neil was glad for his hoodie. They headed towards the library café, making polite small talk about the campus and Neil’s classes. Neil sent Kevin another text asking him to tell him when they were on the way back to campus, and got a short affirmative answer. Higgins paid for both of their drinks and led them to a small table out of the way of the main traffic so they could sit down.

“If you’re trying to find out information about your teammate, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Higgins said once they’d both settled, straight to the point.

“Actually, information isn’t what I’m looking for. I know you’re investigating someone by the name of Spear.”

Higgins frowned thoughtfully. “Did Andrew tell you that?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Neil replied, because saying _we fought over it and then I put the pieces together_ didn’t sound that great. “I don’t know much. My main concern is that this person you’re ‘not officially investigating’ is still wandering around just waiting to make problems.”

“Problems for who, exactly? You?”

“Something like that. Do you believe in coincidences?”

“Not particularly.”

“Me, neither. Do you know much about Exy?”

“Only about the Foxes. Is that related to coincidences?”

“I’m getting there. If you know about the Foxes, then you probably know that all of us come from unconventional childhoods. I’ve got reason to believe that someone I know would quite like to reconnect Andrew and whoever this Spear is.”

“‘Unconventional’ is a nice way of putting it,” Higgins said. “I know Aaron and Andrew, remember? So, what’s the reason? And who is the ‘someone’?”

“I can’t tell you that.” The Moriyamas would have Phil Higgins face down in a ditch somewhere before he could even start asking the interesting questions.

“Even if it would put Spear behind bars?”

“You’d be in so far over your head you would drown before you realised you were breathing water.”

“Well, it’s someone you know, and you’re still afloat.”

“You and I are nothing alike,” Neil said, which was the absolute truth. No one had ever described Neil as honourable, for a start.

Higgins smiled faintly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think we both are trying to protect the same person.”

“That’s not,” Neil said, and then stopped. He supposed that Higgins was right, in essence. Neil wouldn’t have worded it like that: his stake in this was keeping Riko from hurting anyone else. Andrew was the one who dealt in protection, not Neil. “Are you?”

Higgins sat back, his face thoughtful. “Well, I’m trying to protect a bunch of children. But I do care about Andrew’s safety. Especially if you are right.”

Neil’s brain was making connections faster than he could keep up with – Andrew and Aaron, more than one child, Andrew as a foster child himself – and coming up with all sorts of answers. They were all ugly, but that wasn’t a surprise. “You want Andrew to give evidence against a fosterer.”

“And you thought that I might be involved with ‘someone’ trying to reconnect Andrew with a suspected abuser,” Higgins said, because he was clearly making his own realisations as Neil did. “You’re pretty ballsy, then. You go on coffee dates with everyone who you want to quiz about their intentions?”

“Is it a date because you bought my drink? Because you’re a little old for me,” Neil deadpanned. “Think of it as expediency on my part. I’m a fan of dealing with things before they become a problem.”

“That’s what I’m here to try and do,” Higgins replied.

“Then I’ll stay out of your way,” Neil said. His phone buzzed in his pocket: Kevin, letting him know that they were in the car coming back. “That’s your cue.”

“You realise that I’m going to tell Andrew exactly what you’ve said to me,” Higgins said, tapping the table with his index finger.

Neil smiled. It wasn’t that Neil distrusted Andrew’s assessment of Higgins. People changed though, and they changed quicker when there was money on offer. Riko Moriyama had a lot of money at his disposal. “I figured. He said you’re an honourable cop.”

“You make that sound like an oxymoron.”

“It is, in my experience.” There had been plenty of corruption in the force in Baltimore. Neil had sat next to kids his age when Neil’s father invited their cop parents for dinner.

“First time for everything?”

“I guess we’ll see.” Neil stood, scuffing his chair back in. “I’ll walk you back.”

They arrived back at the Tower just as Andrew’s car pulled in. Aaron was out first and started across the lot without waiting for the others. He saw Neil and his dark expression got even darker – evidently he wasn’t pleased about Neil’s request for Halloween. When he caught sight of Higgins, though, he stopped dead.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Just to talk,” Higgins replied. “Hello, Andrew.”

Andrew, who had come up behind Aaron, was grinning. His gaze darted from Higgins to Neil and back. “Hello, Phil Higgins. Didn’t I tell you that I’d kill you if you didn’t leave me alone?”

“You told me you would kill me if I called you again. That’s why I’ve come all the way out here to see you in person,” Higgins said, smiling lightly. “Will you speak with me?”

They both watched as Andrew left the others frozen and walked up to the two of them.

Once he was close enough, he said to Neil in rapid German, “You are keen to involve yourself, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what this is,” Neil stumbled through, the words awkward on his tongue. “I don’t believe in coincidences either. Maybe I just didn’t want another black eye.”

He was somewhat gratified to see Andrew struggle to catch up with that one. He had nearly put a fist through Neil’s face weeks ago when Higgins had called, thinking that Neil was involved whatever this mess was. It was a fair reason, even if it wasn’t the real reason, but Neil would leave that to Higgins to explain how he liked. He would paint Neil in a more flattering light, but Andrew would probably see through that.

Andrew looked back to Higgins. “You are wasting my time.”

“Not anymore I’m not. You were right about Richard Spear.”

He was entertained by that. “Oh, was I! Thank you for the confirmation.”

“It got me thinking, though. You wouldn’t have reacted unless there was something for me to find,” Higgins said. “So, I’ve got a name for you, and all I need is a yes or a no.”

“People like you are only satisfied with a yes or a no for a little while. You want so much more than that, and I don’t want to give it to you,” Andrew said, mock-disappointed. “So, will you leave? Or will I have to-”

“Drake,” Higgins interrupted.

Andrew’s reaction was enough of an answer. His gaze slid to Neil after a frozen moment, and he said, “Go away.”

He was a bomb just waiting for ignition, and Neil wasn’t interested in being caught in the fallout. He turned immediately and headed in the direction of the tower. His path took him directly past the others.

“Come on,” he said, and they fell in behind him in silence.

They made it as far as the elevator before Nicky burst out with, “Is that that cop? Do we have a problem?”

The look Aaron gave him could have peeled paint. “When the fuck _doesn’t_ he have a problem?”

Nicky bristled. “Hello, it’s not like you don’t know Higgins too.”

“I met him _once_. I don’t know why he’s here now.”

“Andrew will take care of it,” Kevin interjected before they could really start to go at each other. He sounded certain; Neil hoped that he was right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Split this chapter in two so NEXT: Halloween.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done with my exams now so hopefully I'll be updating a bit more the next few weeks!
> 
> Thanks as always to Iris [exyfexyfoxes](http://exyfexyfoxes.tumblr.com/) for editing this thing :)

The trip to Sweetie’s with the entire team was predictably uncomfortable. The upperclassmen and Nicky did admirably to make sure they weren’t left sitting in complete silence. Aaron was still furious and Andrew was Andrew, so it was almost a relief to reach Eden’s Twilight so they had the pounding music as a reason to avoid talking.

They managed to collect enough seats for all of them, and Andrew immediately roped Kevin into getting drinks with him while the girls and Matt went to do the same. That left Nicky, Aaron and Neil alone in the crowd of stools. Aaron was consumed with his phone and ignoring them.

As soon as the others were out of sight, Nicky leaned over with a curious expression. “How the hell did you get him to agree to this?”

“You were listening,” Neil replied, because there was no way that Nicky wouldn’t have listened to Andrew’s side of the conversation.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what _you_ said. Was it blackmail? Extortion?”

Neil snorted. “No. As if that would work on Andrew. Did he say how things went with Higgins?”

“God, no. As if,” Nicky scoffed. “And I wasn’t stupid enough to ask. I’m going to get it out of you one way or another, by the way.”

Allison and Renee appeared out of the crowd then, each with a drink in hand. Dan and Matt weren’t far behind them. It was interesting to watch how Nicky flourished under their attention – he was desperate for the warmth that he never got from his own family.

Kevin and Andrew came back to the table after a while, heavily laden. There was a second round for the upperclassmen on their tray, and Kevin dropped a can of soda in front of Neil as he sat across from him.

Kevin started to say something in French, paused with a glance at Allison, and then went on in Japanese instead. “Are you happy now?”

Neil made a face at him. “Ecstatic. Aren’t you?”

“Why would I be?”

“Well, you invited me, and here I am. Don’t tell me you aren’t pleased, or you might hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t think you would insist on having _them_ here,” Kevin said.

“They’re your team, too. We both know we’re nothing without them,” Neil reminded him. “Have another shot. It’ll make you much more bearable.”

“You like them,” Kevin said, a twist of jealousy on his tongue. That was an innate trait of his, but not one he had indulged in at Edgar Allen. Riko had a tendency to break what Kevin wanted if they didn’t benefit him, so he had learned to keep his desires to himself.

It annoyed Neil that he was so eager to resurrect the ‘us and them’ mentality of Evermore with Andrew’s lot when it did them no favours. It annoyed him more that Kevin still thought of Neil as his, in some respect – not always a person, but a set of skills to be shaped. Kevin was jealous that Neil was reaching out for something more, or perhaps just his refusal to be shut in that box anymore.

Kevin Day was a hypocrite, and it pissed Neil off.

“Yes, I do,” Neil confirmed, his voice sharp. “Don’t pretend you have a problem with them personally. I know you don’t – and I know you respect them on the court more than you make out. You made that pretty obvious to Riko when we played Edgar Allen. I suggest you make it clear to them too.”

“I’m not here to offer encouragement when they fail,” Kevin bit out.

“You’re here to win,” Neil reminded him. “You need to rethink your strategy. These aren’t Ravens. Your bitching has got us this far, but it isn’t enough.”

Kevin fell quiet for a moment, frowning. “Are we really nothing without them? You and I?”

He meant _we’re good at this_ , and he wasn’t necessarily wrong. But being good couldn’t be enough for them. They needed to win. Neil had already made that promise to himself, and he was intent on seeing it through if he had to drag the others kicking and screaming. It was fortunate that the informed-consent method was working for him so far, though.

“It’s a team sport, Day. You picked this team. I’m doing what I can to make it a functional one, but you need to meet me halfway.”

Kevin went quiet after that, sulky but thoughtful.

Once Kevin procured crackers from his pocket and they’d been split amongst the people who wanted them, the upperclassmen went off to dance and left the rest of them at the table. It was dead silent without their attempts at keeping the conversation alive – even Nicky went quiet and concentrated on the diabolically coloured contents of his glass.

Neil wished that he had an interest in dancing as an excuse to leave. He focussed on stacking the empties back on the tray, and once it was full he stood to return it to the bar with a quick glance at the others. He wasn’t as skilled with it as Nicky or Andrew, but he managed to get through without smashing anything.

As he pushed it up on the bar, Neil caught the eye of the closest bartender and pointed to Andrew’s table to signal who Neil was here for. The bartender gave an understanding nod as he took Neil’s tray and started mixing drinks to refill it with.

Neil watched the smooth, practiced motions of his hands. It was impressive that he didn’t spill a drop even though he was bouncing on his heels to the music; most Exy players were very coordinated, but Neil doubted anyone he knew could do that. As he put the first lot of shots on the tray, he caught Neil’s eye and grinned.

“You’re Neil, right?” He leant over the bar to speak into Neil’s ear rather than yell. His breath was hot on Neil’s neck. “I saw you here last time with Andrew.”

“Yeah. You remember me?” Neil asked, puzzled. His memory was a little hazy, but he knew he’d stuck to the table all night.

“I wouldn’t forget a face like yours,” he replied, inches away from Neil. Neil resisted the urge to touch the tattoo on his cheek – it made his face very distinctive. “I’m Roland. That lot doesn’t usually bring the same person twice. You must be hardy.”

“Something like that,” Neil said. “Have you know them long?”

“Oh, yeah. All three of them used to work here while they were still living in town,” Roland replied. “It’s always nice to see them back.”

“I don’t know that I’d use the word ‘nice’,” Neil quipped before he thought about it, startling a laugh out of Roland.

“You’re funny, too,” Roland said, almost pouting. “Do you dye your hair, by the way? It’s a pretty colour.”

He reached out and tugged lightly at the overgrown curl that hung over Neil’s forehead. Roland’s uninvited touch was such a surprise that Neil didn’t flinch, just blinked at Roland.

“Uh, no,” he answered, his voice flat. He wasn’t sure what kind of person looked at him, bladed to the touch all over, and wanted to put their fingers on him so casually. He equally wasn’t sure that he liked it.

“Drink for the road?” Roland asked, taking out two glasses. Neil’s hand shot out and covered them right before Roland could pour.

“I don’t drink,” he said sharply, and then, “Sorry.”

“Roland! We’re getting sick of waiting while you chat,” Nicky said, suddenly inserting himself at the bar in the two inches of space at Neil’s side. Neil had to grab Nicky’s upper arm so he wasn’t shoved into the girl leaning on his right.

“What, did Andrew send you?” Roland asked, his smile shifting into a smirk. “He’s been watching.”

Neil threw a glance over his shoulder at the table, and true to his word Andrew was looking at them across the writhing crowd. His expression was still as stone.

“I didn’t realise he was so impatient,” Neil commented, looking away before their eyes could meet. There was something uncomfortable about knowing Andrew had been watching him and Roland talk, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“‘Protective’ is the word you’re looking for,” Nicky corrected, more to Roland than to Neil. “We made an executive decision that Neil isn’t allowed to accept drinks from strangers. He has a bit of problem with getting roofied.”

“I think it’s ‘possessive’, actually,” Roland said. He pulled out a soda and put it on the tray unopened with an apologetic smile for Neil. It turned to a grin again moments later. Neil looked between the two of them.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said.

“That’s fine!” Roland chirped. “Here, look, your drinks are done. Toddle off now and drink up.”

“You’re hilarious,” Nicky informed him, picking up their tray. “Here, Neil, make a path for me.”

Neil did so, wending his way between drunken dancers. He resisted the urge to push people aside when they crushed against him, their heat making sweat roll down the small of his back. Kevin had disappeared, leaving Aaron and Andrew alone with their matching bored faces.

Nicky put the tray down and let Andrew sort through the glasses as he liked while Neil collapsed back onto his stool with his soda. It was cool and sweet in his throat; he felt dehydrated just from proximity to so much alcohol.

After a moment, Nicky leant over the table, smelling like whatever hideous sweet concoction he’d been drinking. “So. Roland?”

Aaron groaned and dropped off his stool. “Jesus. I’m out.” It was the first time he had spoken all evening.

“What about him?” Neil asked, watching Aaron skirt the tables and head towards the thrashing mass of dancers.

“He thinks you’re cute,” Nicky answered. Neil blinked at him. “Oh, you’re so oblivious. He’s really sweet, he’d treat you right. And he’s super hot, too.”

“I – what?” Neil stuttered.

“Nicky,” Andrew said, a clear warning. Nicky shot him a look and shrugged.

“It’s weird, Andrew,” he said, sipping at his drink. “Like, he took Allison to the banquet and didn’t make out with her, and now Roland’s blatantly hitting on him and he doesn’t even twitch an eyelid. It’s _weird_.”

“I told you I don’t swing,” Neil reminded him.

“Yeah. I used to tell myself that after I nailed myself in the closet, too,” Nicky replied.

Neil tilted his head, trying to imagine it. Whatever else you could say about Nicky, he was obviously true to himself in all the ways that mattered. “When was that?”

“My parents are super religious,” Nicky said, “Like, super crazy militant religious. When I first came out to them, my mom cried and my dad said that I was condemning myself to an eternity in hell. I was sixteen.”

Neil hadn’t been raised with religion, and his tutors at Edgar Allen hadn’t bothered with teaching him much about it either. Talking to Renee had taught him a little, but her belief system didn’t seem to have much room for saying something like that to your own child. He preferred her love-and-forgiveness type of worship, if he had to choose.

“They thought that if they sent me to a facility, somehow I would pray the gay away,” Nicky said.

“That doesn’t sound very effective.”

“It wasn’t,” Nicky said with the thin edge of a smile, gesturing at himself. “I thought, maybe, for a while. It’s pretty convincing, all those reasons to hate yourself. I’m just lucky that I got to go to Germany and meet the love of my life.”

Nicky chattered incessantly about Erik, so Neil felt familiar with him despite never having met him. He was more interested in the dark tone Nicky’s voice had taken on for a second when he’d talked about hating himself. It reminded him of Jean.

Neil could see himself there, as well. The two of them were opposites, but apparently Nicky knew what it was like to be caged too. Nicky was the light-hearted comedian of the team, so he’d missed that trait until right now. Here was the thing eating at Nicky underneath the façade.

“Anyway, I’m too drunk to remember where I was going with this,” Nicky rallied after a second. “Love yourself. And love a man, obviously.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Thanks Nicky, but I’m still not interested.”

“Neil is only interested in Exy,” Andrew commented, without looking away from whatever he was fixated on in the dark across the room. Neil had almost forgotten that he was there. When he looked in the same direction, he realised that Kevin and Matt were leaning up against the far wall next to one another, turned like they were speaking. “No room in his heart for anything else.”

Nicky frowned hard enough to wrinkle his brow. “Exy is never gonna love you back though, Neil.”

“That’s fine,” Neil said with a shrug. He was saved from Nicky’s imminent moaning by Renee who appeared to sweet talk him into dancing with her, her sequined cape glittering under the lights. It was nice to not be the only one sticking their hand over the divide and waiting to see if they’d lose it. They disappeared into the crowd hand-in-hand, though not before Renee shot Neil a small smile.

That left the two of them. When Neil looked at Andrew out of the corner of his eye, he was running his finger around the rim of his glass and staring into the middle distance. He looked uninterested in and unsurprised by Nicky’s defection.

Neil said, “Your brother is going to be a problem for me.”

Andrew slowly tilted him a bored look. “I hope you aren’t asking me for advice.”

“I’m not. The two of you don’t even talk.” Neil had noticed that early on, even if he hadn’t known why.

“I told you that he hates me.”

“I remember.” He wouldn’t forget that conversation any time soon, or the expression on Andrew’s face as he stated point-blank that he had killed their mother. “You said you did it because of him. That didn’t change his opinion at all?”

Andrew didn’t answer, sipping from the closest glass. He had drunk more than Neil could feasibly imagine, but he seemed exactly the same as he had the last time they’d been in Columbia together.

Neil frowned. “Does he know that’s why?”

“He knows. That’s the wrong question, though, don’t you think?”

“What’s the right question?” Neil asked, and then thought, _misunderstanding_. That wouldn’t be Aaron’s word because Neil didn’t think Aaron had the ability to affect Andrew so profoundly. Andrew had the same tone as he’d spoken with when he’d warned Neil against using it, though. “Oh. He didn’t believe you.”

Andrew hummed. “Why do you care, again?”

“I’m trying to figure him out. But you already know that.”

“I think you are still trying to figure _me_ out.”

“I’m already doing that. Which is why you hate me so much,” Neil said. “That and the fact I’m succeeding.”

Andrew’s expression was unchanged, but Neil knew he was right even without the reaction. Andrew wasn’t the indecipherable code the others made him out to be, just like he wasn’t the violent psychopath they insisted on calling him. There wasn’t much to figure out when you could ask him and get a solid answer.

“Higgins said such sweet things about you,” he said. “So you must be a better liar than you seem.”

“I thought he might. He seems like the type who sees the good in people.” Neil shrugged. “Wasn’t he your mentor?”

“Something like that,” Andrew replied. “You would do well to watch your step. You might get yourself in trouble one of these days.”

“Not today, though, right?” Neil asked, and took Andrew’s silence as confirmation. He’d known in the parking lot that talking to Higgins wasn’t going to be a problem, the same way he knew that this was a warning not to involve himself further. That was fine; he’d found out what he wanted to know already. “I still owe you one.”

“I remember,” Andrew replied. “I’m just not cashing in yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Next: Phone calls that spell trouble.


	19. Chapter 19

Twenty looked the same as nineteen, and the same as eighteen before that. Andrew was by now well and truly used the unvarying grey of his life, punctuated occasionally by pain. There was no point, he thought, in protesting the inevitable.

However, he’d never had seconds counting down in his head like this.

There was nothing to be done for it that didn’t involve a good sharp knife. Andrew could only wait. He was never the type to act first, or at least not when it was only him at stake; rushing usually betrayed him. He saw the proof of his patience every time he saw Aaron alive; and of his being rash, every time he had to swallow another pill.

Nicky’s phone rang, obnoxiously bright and poppy. He and Aaron were playing one of their games, but Nicky bolted as soon as he saw who was calling. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was it was on the other end; Nicky had Eric and he had friends, but he never acted so squirrelly about anything unless it had to do with his parents.

Every time he talked about his family, he looked a little surprised that it still hurt. It was the hot pot he hadn’t figured out how to let go of yet; he burned his fingers over and over. That was Nicky’s secret: he had the same death grip as the rest of them, though he hid it with a quip and a smile.

When he returned, he wore a pinched look but his jaw was set. He walked towards the hall, then started back towards the kitchen, and then stopped and stood over the beanbag chair while trying to summon up his nerve.

“The person who called,” he started, “It was Mom.”

Aaron looked up, brow furrowed. “Maria doesn’t talk to you.”

“She wanted to invite me to spend Thanksgiving with them.”

“You’re not considering it,” Aaron said, more derision than an actual question.

Nicky flinched. “I have to. They’re my family.”

He was wasting his breath. He couldn’t have found himself an audience who cared less about family, especially the kind of family Luther and Maria were.

“Well, you have fun with that then. When you get confirmation that they still hate you for not pretending to be straight, don’t come crying to me,” Aaron said.

“Uh, that’s the thing,” Nicky said, with an audible quiver his voice. “The condition is that I have to bring you both with me.”

Evasion was easy, then. Andrew said, “No.”

Aaron looked at Andrew for the first time in days. There was still vitriol in his gaze, but his question was meant for Nicky. “Why do they want us there?”

“I presume she wants to see you?” Nicky said helplessly. “You guys are family too.”

“I doubt they want to see Andrew,” Aaron said, his lip curling. “Has she forgotten what happened last time?”

“I…she didn’t bring it up, I don’t know,” Nicky said.

“Well, they’re people of God. Maybe they want to try waving their forgiveness wand over me again to see if that makes me all better. Third time might be the charm,” Andrew said. “You have my answer.”

“Andrew,” Nicky attempted, “Please.”

“You know how I feel about that word,” Andrew warned. “I’m not interested in being involved in your pathetic quest to remind your parents they’re meant to love you. The fact that them seeing you is conditional should be enough of a warning, by the way.”

Nicky was getting progressively more hunched over, his shoulders curling like Andrew’s truths were dead weight resting on his back.

“I’ll go,” Aaron said. “They aren’t that bad.”

He had no idea. Andrew’s grin was turning into a curled lip of his own. “Then you can enjoy that together.”

Nicky was shaking his head. “They want to see Andrew.”

That was more upfront than Andrew had been expecting, but he was starting to think like Neil, all twists and turns and potential traps. There were probably plenty of reasons why they wanted to see Andrew, but he was paranoid through the teachings of a lifetime.

“If it’s that important that he’s there, you can just call me Andrew,” Aaron said. He looked at Andrew as he said it, ensuring that Andrew knew it was a deliberate dig.

Usually, it would have been a waste of his time and energy to respond. Today, Andrew heard _I bet he isn’t as sweet as you. But you two would look so good together._

He wanted to laugh, or maybe wanted to hurt someone, or maybe didn’t care at all.

“You don’t think your own aunt and uncle can tell the difference between us?” Andrew asked. “Let’s spare them your acting and your pathetic attempt at making me angry. They’d know you weren’t me the second you walked into that house.”

“I’ll go,” Aaron said, to Nicky this time. “If I have to smash something to convince them then I will. Maybe that would increase my enjoyment. It must do something for you, right, Andrew?”

Andrew thought for a second that Neil was lucky he wasn’t in front of Andrew right now. He’d started this, and he wasn’t keeping up his end of the bargain; Aaron had decided to test the stretch in his leash. Even if he didn’t realise it, he had grabbed his end and was using it against Andrew like a choke collar.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Andrew said, which was the absolute truth.

“I’m being a good cousin,” Aaron said with a faux-innocent shrug. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

It wasn’t a question of breaking any promises; none of this was. It was a matter of realising which one was most important. Aaron, the one he’d made first, versus the only one he’d ever made to himself. They were as heavy as Fox Tower falling down on his head.

“I won’t spend Thanksgiving with them,” Andrew said at last. “You change the date and I’ll be there. I won’t play nice, though. You might want to warn them.”

Andrew would happily break every window in that house just to see Luther Hemmick react. But he was patient: he would wait until Luther gave him a good reason. He probably wouldn’t have to wait all that long.

“I doubt either of them expect anything else from you,” Aaron sneered, over Nicky’s dawning amazement.

“Andrew, tha-” Nicky started, which was all he managed before Andrew was out of the suite and slamming the door behind him. He would have liked to slam it a few more times just for the noise, but he restrained himself in favour of heading down the hall.

He knocked once on the door of Neil’s suite. Matt was the one who opened it; his expression changed to the usual expression of distrust at the sight of Andrew, rather than the one of virulent hatred he’d worn since Andrew’s brawl with Neil. He still held the door firmly in one hand like Andrew might try and shove his way past him though.

“We enjoyed the other night,” he said, which was probably a gross overstatement of the facts. “We should do it again sometime.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, even though he wanted to open his smiling mouth and say something vicious. He didn’t have time for that. After a moment Matt rolled his eyes.

“Neil,” he said over his shoulder. There was the sound of rustling and Neil’s head appeared in the narrow gap between the doorframe and Matt’s arm.

“Oh,” he said. “One second.”

He moved out of sight and then reappeared, shoving his feet into his shoes and gesturing for Matt to let him past. “Keep watching without me.”

“There’s only one of us who hasn’t been exposed to this bastion of popular culture, and it isn’t me,” Matt said. “I’ll wait.”

Andrew led them up the stairs and onto the roof. It was windy on the ground today and windier four stories up, enough to whistle through Andrew’s hair and tug persistently at his clothes.

Neil hopped up onto the edge of the building, his arms held slightly out from his sides. It looked even more precarious than it had last time with his oversized t-shirt billowing and threatening to pull him off balance.

“I’m going to push you off there,” Andrew warned. His fingers were itching again.

Neil threw him a look over his shoulder, predictably exhilarated. “You can try.”

He turned on his toe, though, and dropped back down. “What do you want?”

“Did Nicky tell you why his parents called?” Andrew asked.

Neil looked thoughtful. “Yeah. Did he ask?”

Andrew was starting to hate that word. “He asked.”

“Did you say yes?”

“I don’t know who you think you’re helping now,” Andrew said instead of answering.

“Maybe I think I’m helping you,” Neil said with a hint of a smile. It wasn’t a particularly nice one. “I don’t know your cousin that well, but I know that there are only so many times you can be disappointed by your family.”

“Does that wisdom come from personal experience?”

“Nah. My parents aren’t that kind of disappointing,” Neil said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. It’s been years, right? He might think twice about signing himself up for another try if they let him down again, even if he does miss his mom.”

“Oh. Is that what sparked your sympathy? Maria Hemmick isn’t much better than her husband, but at least she isn’t dead, right?”

“I miss my mother too,” Neil admitted freely. “Sorry if that’s offensive to you seeing as you hated yours. But I’d kill for a chance to see mine again if I could. So, yeah, maybe I sympathise with him a little.”

“So, what’d you tell him? Ask and you shall receive?”

“He wanted to know how I got you to agree Eden’s Twilight. I told him I asked. What he took from that is all him, not me. I said you wouldn’t agree anyway, so I guess he’s more persuasive than I give him credit for.”

He was so oblivious it would have made Andrew feel sick to his stomach, were he someone else. “He wasn’t.”

Neil tilted his head. “So you just decided to go out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I don’t have any goodness in my heart,” Andrew replied, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one. Neil waited for him to go on, but he didn’t look perturbed when Andrew didn’t.

“Why?” he asked after Andrew blew the smoke from his mouth. It was blasted away by the wind almost immediately. He thought that was a key to unlock Andrew, but he wasn’t right, and Andrew was happy to prove it.

“No,” he said instead, “You’re coming with us.”

“Uh, no, I’m not,” Neil said. “I’m not interested in spending any more time with you and Aaron than I have to, and I definitely don’t want to meet Nicky’s parents.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Andrew said, “But you owe me one. Right?”

Neil reached out and filched Andrew’s cigarette, closer to burning himself than he was to touching Andrew’s fingers. He turned it over for a second, looking at it, and then flicked it away. “I admit, I didn’t expect you to use it on something like this.”

“You didn’t specify what I could and couldn’t use it on,” Andrew reminded him.

“No, I didn’t. Fine, then. I guess I am coming with you,” Neil said. “I’m curious about why.”

“Is that a question?”

Neil smiled again. “I’m just telling you. You don’t seem like you’re in an answering mood today. Anyway, I’ll find out, right?”

That was a good enough answer for Andrew. Even though it pained him to think of it in these terms, Neil was a proper backliner in the same way Andrew was a goalie: they were both the last line of defence. Andrew needed a shield in his free hand, and if his gut instinct was right then Neil was a better one than most.

“You’ll tell me if there’s going to be trouble,” Neil asked, “Right?”

“If you haven’t learned by now there’s always going to be trouble, then I can’t help you,” Andrew replied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 <3 <3
> 
> Next: Neil meets Luther and Maria.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, SERIOUS TIME. Presumably if you've been reading along with this fic you will have noted the content warnings (graphic violence and rape/non-con). If you haven't, please read them right now, because this is the chapter for which they apply. 
> 
> I don't want a single person to be surprised or triggered by reading this so PLEASE. Do what is best for you. If you're worried, message me on tumblr and I can tell you what happens. If you DON'T want to read this chapter, I've written out the important plot points for going forwards in the end notes. We return to our usual viewing next chapter.

The Hemmicks’ house was pale blue and picturesque, set in a manicured lawn and garden that whispered of the hours spent maintaining it. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was nicer than Neil expected.

“I thought you said your father was a minister,” Neil said to Nicky. He’d grown up with extravagance thanks to both his father’s criminal endeavours and the luxuries the Ravens indulged in, but he never imagined a religious leader living in a home like this.

“Uh, yeah?” Nicky replied. “Why?”

“It’s just, their house – it’s really nice,” Neil attempted. Renee had talked about religion and money to Neil; she was an advocate for giving, both in terms of time and cash.

“Oh, this is nothing. Welcome to Christianity; worshipping the God of Capitalism since before televangelism,” Nicky quipped. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

They pulled in behind a shiny black car that had Andrew leaning forward between the front seats to get a closer look. “I think that one might look better without it’s windscreen. Don’t you?”

“No,” Nicky said vehemently. Andrew couldn’t get out without climbing over either Aaron or Neil, and neither of them would move until Nicky did. He seemed frozen in place, staring up at the house.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said, a quiver in his voice.

“Too late to decide that now,” Kevin said. He’d wanted desperately to go to Exites while they were in Columbia during daylight hours, but Neil had put a stop to that; Andrew’s patience was finite. Neil had squashed Kevin’s bitter complaining about being dragged along, too: all it took was threatening to leave him behind by himself.

All of that culminated with his foul mood, but none of them wanted to spare the energy to coax him out of it. His snappish comment did get through to Nicky. He blew out a breath and let himself out of the car.

Nicky led the way through the white picket front gate towards the house, the rest of them together in a clump behind him. Neil stuck close to Kevin, feeling intensely like an outsider even with Andrew and Aaron at his back. To be fair, the others probably didn’t feel particularly welcome either.

Nicky climbed up the front steps and rang the doorbell, and then retreated to stand with his cousins. It felt like a long time since Neil had seen them look like such a united force. Looks could be deceiving, of course: he knew Aaron was still angry with both him and Andrew, while Andrew had been unusually nasty this week.

A tall woman who looked very much like Nicky opened the door. Her smile was tight and her eyes wary as she looked them over. “Why did you ring the doorbell?”

It wasn’t much of a greeting. Nicky said, “Because I don’t live here anymore.”

Her smile slipped a little, even though Nicky’s tone wasn’t accusatory. Nicky had gone from fidgety to still at the sight of her, his expression somewhere between hopeful and resigned.

“Andrew, Aaron, it’s good to see you both,” she said. “And you two must be Kevin and Neil. I’m Maria.”

She didn’t seem to care much for who was who, the twins included. Kevin summoned up his media smile with a polite, “Yes, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”

It had the same effect as it always did on middle-aged women – she softened, her mouth relaxing. “Please, come in.”

Nicky went first and the rest of them followed. Neil only made it a step before he felt the lightest brush of Andrew’s fingers against his shirt, so quick he could have imagined it. He didn’t speak or look at Neil, so he must have found what he was looking for: Neil still wore a knife right where Andrew’s fingers had barely touched.

“Trouble?” Neil murmured, halting in place so Aaron had to step around him. That earned him a dirty look. Nicky looked nervous to be here but not afraid, and Neil didn’t think that Andrew would have agreed to this if the Hemmicks were that kind of problem.

“Always,” Andrew replied through his grin. He pushed past Neil to go through the front door ahead of him. Maria closed it behind Neil, shutting out the cold air.

“You can hang your coats here,” she said, gesturing to the closet on her right. Once they’d done so, she headed down the hall with a beckoning gesture for them to follow.

Only one of them didn’t follow immediately: Andrew had paused to stare at the closed front door. He looked amused, but Neil certainly couldn’t see the joke.

“What?” Neil asked, his voice low enough that it almost came out a hiss.

Andrew hummed and rocked back on his heels so his sneakers squealed on the hardwood. “Now I know how you feel.”

For the second time in as many minutes, he walked straight past Neil in the direction the others had gone. Neil was left to follow him, puzzled by what that was supposed to mean.

Luther Hemmick was waiting for them in the kitchen. His ascetic face had leant its angles to Nicky’s, but other similarities were sparse. Nicky had never in his life looked that stern or austere, though he was making an attempt now at forcing any emotion off of his face. It was painful to watch.

Luther took a moment to look over the five of them while Maria went to the stove. Neil met his gaze when it was his turn to be examined. He was curious about a man who willingly sent his own son to a facility that carried out what was, at the very least, gross negligence of basic human rights. There were plenty of people on the Internet who called it torture.

Neil had done his research. He didn’t wanted to come into this house disarmed after hearing Nicky’s story. Andrew’s strange behaviour made the effort feel justified.

Luther looked at Andrew for longer than seemed necessary, too. There was no way he knew that Andrew had engineered his sister’s death, but he might have suspected. Neil didn’t think it was that, though. Maybe he was interested to see if Andrew was any different than what he’d been like the last time they saw each other.

“Nicky. Aaron, Andrew,” he said at last.

“Hi Uncle Luther,” Aaron said when it became clear that Nicky wouldn’t be speaking any time soon. “This is Kevin Day and Neil Wesninski.”

There was no recognition on Luther’s face at their names, which said as much about the degree of separation between Nicky and his parents as anything else. Nicky didn’t shine next to players like Kevin and Neil, but he was easily good enough for the college scholarship he received and his place on the Fox line-up. That Luther wasn’t even familiar enough with the sport to know Kevin’s name was telling.

“Welcome,” he said with a forced smile. “You may call me Luther.”

He sent them out the back door and onto the porch where the table was already set. Andrew was seated between Kevin and Neil, out of reach of both Maria and Luther.

Their hosts had to make three trips to get everything to the table. As soon as they were seated, they bowed their heads. It took Neil a moment to catch on and follow suit as Luther prayed over the meal – Andrew, of course, didn’t bother.

Neil couldn’t put anything on his plate until either Andrew or Luther was finished serving themselves from the dishes closest to them, and his stillness drew attention.

“Are you religious?” Luther asked, fixing his gimlet gaze on Neil again.

“No,” Neil replied. He didn’t bother to elaborate, which earned him a disapproving frown.

“Why not?”

It would have been easy to say that he wasn’t raised to it, but the base truth always got a more interesting reaction. “I don’t believe in any higher powers.”

Luther blinked. “You don’t believe in God?”

“I don’t believe in God,” Neil confirmed. Andrew laughed, scraping a serving spoon across his plate so it screeched.

“Neil doesn’t like to bend a knee,” he said. “Not interested in the eternal love and forgiveness part, either. Right, Neil?”

Before Neil could either confirm or deny, Nicky interrupted. “Is that really what you wanted to ask? Not, like, how we’re doing, or about school, or how the season’s going? We’re going to Spring Championships, you know.”

They clearly didn’t know, going by their blank faces. It wasn’t the diversion Nicky was obviously hoping for, either. Luther was still half-focussed on Neil.

“You don’t believe in forgiveness?” he asked.

“When it suits,” Neil said with a shrug.

Andrew stage-whispered, “Old Testament.”

“That’s what has brought us here together today, though,” Luther said. His focus abruptly transferred to the cousins, Neil forgotten. “We want to commit to repairing this family. It will be a hard path to walk but we think that forgiveness and reparations are the first step.”

“Oh, no. I’m here because you wouldn’t agree to see your only child if I didn’t come,” Andrew said, the fact a weapon in his hands. Maria and Luther both flinched. “I was curious, too. Last time I saw you, you threatened me with a restraining order – did you think better of it, or did you just lose your nerve?”

“Andrew,” Nicky interrupted. Neil wasn’t sure why he bothered.

“Shush, Nicky,” Andrew scolded. “Didn’t you want to know who is being forgiven and who is doing the forgiving?”

“Andr-”

“I think we have all done things we need forgiveness for,” Luther said. If it was an attempt at satisfying Andrew, it wasn’t successful. He waved a hand like Luther was annoying insect buzzing around him, nearly swatting Kevin.

“So what is your son’s sin, Luther?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat to make his point. “Go on. Say it out loud.”

Luther looked unwilling to answer that. Nicky said, “If it’s Erik then I won’t apologise.”

His voice was quiet, with a hard edge of hurt, but he looked his father in the eye as he spoke. “I came back to the States for Aaron and Andrew, but I’ll go back to Germany when I’m done here. I love Erik, and I always have. I thought when you invited us down here that you might finally understand that.”

“It’s wrong. We can’t condone sin that way,” Maria said, twisting the knife in Nicky’s back. Despite his words, it was clear that Nicky had expected this from his father – in the same way, he’d obviously hoped for better from Maria.

“I’m not asking you to,” Nicky said. “But you’re supposed to love the sinner even so.”

“We follow the word of God,” Luther said. It was as good as a no.

“Dad, _please_ ,” Nicky said before stopping himself and taking a deep breath. “I can’t live in a world that black and white. So if that’s what you want from me, I’ll go.”

He meant it, too. He was halfway through pushing his chair back to stand when Maria reached a hand out to him.

“Nicholas,” she said. “Stay. We’ll talk more after we’ve eaten. I made your favourite dessert.”

It was a pathetic offering, but it still stopped Nicky in his tracks. He looked at her for a moment and then pulled his seat back in. His gaze, when he turned it back on Luther, was bleak.

“It’s been years. Apple pie isn’t my favourite anymore. But thanks,” he said, and picked up his fork without glancing at his mother at all. He missed her wince; probably she’d never heard him speak with such a hard tone. Neil certainly hadn’t.

After a moment Aaron said, “When did you get the kitchen repainted?”

It broke the tension, weak though it was. Maria, looking relieved, answered, and Aaron kept the conversation going with questions about people Neil had never heard of. Nicky looked down at his plate with his fork held over it, but his appetite seemed to be gone; he prodded at it rather than eating. It took a while for him to join the conversation, with Aaron and Maria’s light encouragement.

Andrew took to eating again with a quiet air of satisfaction. He left the table wordlessly before the rest of them were done. Luther followed, and their voices as they spoke were just barely audible from the table. That didn’t last: unsurprisingly, Andrew’s increased in volume as they argued. Neil strained to hear, but Maria was speaking louder in order to block out the sound. He gave up on listening knowing that he’d probably hear it if Andrew tried to kill Luther.

Luther came back before Andrew did, retaking his seat at the head of the table. He looked worn, which wasn’t a surprise; fighting with Andrew would give anyone a headache.

The surprise was that Andrew didn’t follow him back. On his medication he had no ability to maintain anger, but he still wouldn’t have missed his chance to keep needling Luther and Maria.

By the time five minutes had passed, Neil had looked to the door and back several times. There was a chance that Andrew was smoking in front of the house. There was equally a chance that he was following through on his comment about Luther’s windshield. Neil doubted he would have taken the car and left, though.

The back of his neck was prickling.

Neil hadn’t lived this long by ignoring his instincts. Not when they screamed at him like this. He turned to Luther.

“What did you want to talk to Andrew about?” His voice was soft, but it stopped the conversation dead.

Luther looked affronted. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“He made it mine. You wanted him here for a reason, didn’t you?” Neil paused; it wasn’t that difficult to put it together. Suddenly Andrew’s comment from before – _now I know how you feel_ – made perfect sense.

His heart was revving in his chest.

Aaron and Nicky were looking at him, no understanding in their faces. Luther didn’t speak and his expression was unreadable, but Maria’s wasn’t. Neil was right.

That was enough. Neil stood so quickly that his chair fell backwards and crashed down on the porch. The sound sent a jolt through the others like an electric shock, but Neil was already at the back door. There was nowhere Andrew could be downstairs, not where they wouldn’t be able to hear.

Kevin caught up with him halfway down the hall. “Neil, what the fuck-”

“Stay down here,” Neil snarled, turning to push Kevin back into Aaron so they clutched at each other to avoid falling over. He knew why he was here: he’d known since Andrew had used his favour to ensure that Neil would come. He just hadn’t known exactly what he would be here to fight.

Andrew wouldn’t have meant to bring Neil here to protect him, but he’d misjudged Neil before.

He took the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, hugging the wall. On the first floor, every door was open bar one.

He didn’t bother to try the handle - he took a step back and then slammed his heel in above it, smashing the lock. His momentum took him straight through the doorway, and the door nearly smacked him as it bounced off the wall. He darted out of the way and it jammed closed, the hinges warped enough that it wedged in the frame.

That slamming sound was familiar, like a falling guillotine.

It was another trigger amongst a bombardment of them: Andrew blood-spattered and pinned down, still struggling like a wildcat; Drake holding Andrew’s wrists tight enough in one hand they were white claws; the shout of surprise Drake made at Neil’s entrance, a rough swear.

Neil had been there – the only difference was that Riko mostly used his free hand for a blade, not for fumbling at his zipper.

He gave up on that when he realised that it was a stranger interrupting him, and that Neil was frozen in place. He climbed off of the bed: Neil watched him do it without really comprehending what he was seeing. Drake was twice Neil’s size, all muscle, and he filled the room when he stood upright.

The immediate danger pulled him out of his shocked stupor, but not quick enough. He didn’t have the reach to do much more than struggle when Drake pinned him to the wall by the throat. The force of his grip was crushing.

“This one is pretty, AJ,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder where Andrew was trying – failing – to lever himself off the bed.

He didn’t even have time to turn back around before Neil jammed five inches of steel straight between his ribs and into his heart – and twisted.

When Drake fell back, Neil held the knife long enough for it to pull free with a sucking noise, and then dropped it. He’d had it drilled into him over and over that a single stab wound killed but not quickly. But he cared much more about getting to Andrew than he did about the way that Drake was flopping around on the floor.

Andrew had only succeeded in pushing himself halfway to upright, but his eyes were completely unfocussed. Neil tried to say his name and could only make a strangled sound through the terrible pain in his throat.

They gripped fruitlessly at one another for a moment until Neil finally managed to get him upright. The strength he used meant Andrew bumped into his chest and they almost both went over backwards, pressed into the wall away from Drake’s thrashing feet.

When Neil finally managed to pry Andrew’s brutally strong fingers off of him and separate them, Andrew had left blood smeared all over his chest and arms. “ _Jesus_.”

“Is that all mine?” Andrew asked, and then he started to laugh.

Neil could feel himself start to react, the adrenaline abruptly giving way to the need to be sick. He swallowed, wrenching a sheet off of the bed and wrapping it around Andrew from his throat to the floor.

“Come on,” he ground out. “Andrew, _come on_.”

It didn’t stop the laughter. Worse, Drake was making noise – not proper words, just desperate sounds. Neil looked down for long enough to see that he was grabbing at his chest, his fingers scrabbling for purchase. It sounded like he was begging.

“Stop that, unless you want me to slit your throat too,” Neil said. He didn’t recognise his own voice when it came out that cold. He wanted to do it; he would have, if he hadn’t been the only thing keeping Andrew off of the floor.

Outside there was a yell and then the door smashed open again. This time the top hinge came free with the force of Aaron crashing into it, leaving the entire thing hanging. Aaron came to a screeching halt in the doorway with Kevin right behind him. His face went from furious to confused to so white that Neil thought he might faint as he looked from Andrew and Neil to Drake and back again.

“Stay there,” Neil warned them. There was blood spreading across the floor, and the cops would have a field day if they all ended up with shoeprints in here. His warning meant nothing to Aaron, though; he was already halfway to Andrew’s side.

Kevin took one look into the room and ran back down the stairs, rattling the entire house.

Andrew’s laughter had cut off abruptly at the sight of his brother. As desperately as Aaron reached for him, he reached back, fighting with the sheet to get his hands free.

“Andrew,” Aaron said, his voice terrible with fear. His hands on Andrew’s upper arms halted his struggling.

“Did he touch you?” Andrew asked, intent wiping away his amusement. “He didn’t, did he?”

“I – no,” Aaron said. “No, Andrew. I-I’m okay.”

Drake was gasping now, sick and wet. Aaron spared him a quick look, and Neil followed his gaze. Objectively, it was a horror; there was blood everywhere.

“Will he die?” Aaron asked.

“Depends on how fast an ambulance can get here,” Neil said dispassionately. “Here, move. Andrew-”

He didn’t give Andrew a chance to protest, freeing one of his arms and wrapping it around his own neck so he could lift him. He was heavier than someone so short had any right to be, but Neil was still burning with adrenaline and aware that there was glass all over the floor. Andrew was barefoot: Drake had pulled his shoes off along with his pants.

Andrew made a sickening noise in Neil’s ear that made him regret it instantly, but he couldn’t stay here in this room with Drake a second longer.

There was another empty bedroom across the hall, with a hospital-cornered bed that Neil set Andrew down on. Andrew didn’t let go, though. His hand grabbed at the back of Neil’s neck, without a care for the way Neil gasped in pain.

“Get out of my way,” he said, forcing Neil down to his knees next to the bed.

Behind him, there was the sound of Nicky gasping out, “Jesus fuck,” as he fell through the door. Neil turned to look as much as he could in Andrew’s grip and found Luther standing the doorway, frozen in place.

“Oh, Luther,” Andrew said, all mock-surprise. “It’s so convenient that you came all the way up here. Did you look next door?”

“What did you _do_?” Luther asked. His eyes seemed to take up his entire face, and they were damning.

“What did _I_ do? That _is_ funny. I think a better question is, what did _you_ do?” Andrew said. “I told you. Do you believe me now? Or do you still think that I just don’t know the meaning of real brotherly love? You’re probably right - this is just another misunderstanding.”

Aaron flinched in his spot at Andrew’s side on the bed. Andrew’s other hand was so tight on Aaron’s wrist that he’d have a bracelet of bruises; he was still smiling.

“And speaking of, I seem to recall that you promised that Cass Spear wouldn’t foster any more children? Because a little birdie told me she had another six after me,” Andrew went on, his demented smile firmly back in place. “Luther, I think you’re decent with numbers. You can figure out where you went wrong there. Just like you’re probably figuring out right now exactly what you invited into your home.”

“You killed him,” Luther murmured.

“Is he dead? Neil didn’t seem to think he’d bleed out quite so fast,” Andrew responded. Neil could feel him swaying, so he put up a hand to Andrew’s chest to steady him. Andrew didn’t look away from Luther at the touch. “I didn’t kill him anyway. Drake knows exactly how hard to hit me to get the upper hand. You know that bottle you promised me? Guess how I got this.”

He let go of Neil to gesture to his face.

“This isn’t the first time,” Aaron said, his voice trembling as he put it all together. “You knew about this. And you brought him here anyway.”

Luther had nothing to say to that. Aaron, whose shivers had spread from his voice to his arms where he was holding fast to Andrew, snarled at him to get out. Luther went and closed the door behind him.

Andrew’s laugh drowned out the sound of it shutting. It turned to choking as his body finally made itself heard, and Neil narrowly avoided being vomited on. Between the two of them, he and Aaron managed to keep him upright as he heaved and spat.

“Here,” Neil said, hooking his finger into the cuff of the armband on Andrew’s free arm. Andrew blinked at him very slowly. “You think they might not think twice about you carrying knives when there’s a guy with a stab wound out there?”

“Cleverer than you look,” Andrew grated through his smile. “Go on, then.”

He pulled one free, careful not to touch Andrew skin-to-skin. Aaron, who was pulling the other one off, wasn’t so careful. He paused with his fingers curled around the underside of Andrew’s wrist, his brow furrowing.

“Let go of me,” Andrew told him, “If you want to keep that hand.”

“Andrew,” Aaron attempted, but Andrew hushed him loudly instead. Neil took the band from Aaron, knowing that now wasn’t the time to ask, bundling it up with the other and tossing them to Nicky. They caught him in the chest, but his hand came up quick enough to catch them.

“Pocket,” Neil said, pushing himself to his feet at last. Nicky took a long moment to react before he pushed them into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, sounding like he was going to be sick himself.

Neil didn’t have time for that. He looked down at Aaron and commanded, “You need to go with him to the hospital.”

Aaron looked even tinier with his terrified expression and the way he huddled close to his twin. He stared back at Neil like he wasn’t sure whether to say yes or no, as if Neil was giving him a choice.

“I-I can’t,” he stuttered, clearly waiting for Andrew to tell him to fuck off. There was no chance of that, looking at him; Andrew had gotten lost in his own head now that Luther was gone. It was better than the laughing, but not by much.

“ _I don’t fucking care_ ,” Neil snarled, because he was losing his grip just as fast. At the edge of his hearing he could make out sirens getting closer. “Stay in here.”

He stopped at the top of the stairs to wait them out, pushing everything down deep so he didn’t have to feel it right now. He was covered in Andrew and Drake’s blood, his hands red and his shirt spattered with it. He looked exactly like he’d stabbed someone in the chest.

Handcuffs were familiar to Neil. It was just the first time he’d ever had them put on by an actual cop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Neil is faster and so is the one to stop Drake by stabbing him in the chest. He is the one who gets arrested. Aaron goes with Andrew to the hospital. That's the important stuff in terms of understanding what's happening in the rest of the fic - if you want more details, feel free to message me on tumblr @ badacts.
> 
> Thanks for reading...I'm sorry? I love you all <3 even if I ignored your sad faces in my inbox.
> 
> Next: Neil makes another deal.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Iris ([exyfexyfoxes](http://exyfexyfoxes.tumblr.com/)) as ever for going over this.

Neil was locked in a room in Columbia’s downtown PD with a table, two chairs, and a harsh fluorescent light overhead. It took a long time for anything to happen after that.

He spent most of it trying desperately to feel as though the walls weren’t crushing in on him. The mirrored wall across from him gave him an excellent view of the perfect set of black and purple fingerprints developing on his neck. He stared at them and thought about nothing except his breathing.

He had no idea how long it’d been when the door opened to admit a uniformed police officer. The woman took the empty seat across from Neil, sitting back with the casual swagger of all people who want to look like hard-asses. Neil, who’d grown up with the real deal, could spot someone faking it a mile away.

She walked him through the events of the evening methodically, and Neil gave her everything he could remember. It took a surprisingly long time to recount it all, considering how quickly it all happened. Once he reached the end, he fell silent. She – her uniform said ‘Davis’ – scribbled a few more notes and then looked up. Her expression had gone from business-like to ‘bad cop’.

“Spear died on the operating an hour ago,” she said, and then they both sat in silence and stared at each other. “I see you aren’t terribly upset about that.”

“No.” Neil’s voice sounded brutal thanks his swollen throat.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” he said, but went on anyway, “I would have done worse to nicer people to protect myself and my team.”

“Worse than a penetrating stab wound to the chest?”

“Are you sure you’re really a cop? There are a lot of worse ways to die.” Neil had seen them carried out right in front of his eyes.

She hummed. “You think that’s a normal reaction to having killed someone?”

“If you’ve done your research on me – on any of us – then you know we aren’t what you would call normal,” he said, and then refused to say anything else. He’d given his answers and they wouldn’t change.

He spent the night in a cell.

The next day he was escorted back into the interrogation room to a new face – a tall man in a nondescript navy suit. He sat back and watched as Neil took the seat across from him. None of his bearing was affected – it was confidence, plain and simple. That didn’t mean Neil respected it any more.

“You look like you didn’t sleep all that well,” he said after a minute of stony silence from Neil.

“You look like a Fed,” Neil deadpanned. He examined the table, not having to feign boredom – if they were going to play at having attitudes, Neil was willing to bet that he’d win.

“Yep. Special Agent Browning,” he confirmed. “I flew all the way out here for the pleasure of seeing you.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know, it’s real shame. I’ve never been a big fan of Exy, but even I’ve heard that your team is on the rise. Their season might be over with you in a cell, though.”

“It was going to be over if I was dead, too.” Neil shrugged.

“You’re that sure Spear was going to kill you?”

“Lots have people have tried to kill me. I’m getting familiar with what it looks like now.”

Browning sat back in his chair. “Not much of a show of remorse.”

“No.” Neil had forgotten what that emotion felt like over the last twenty-four hours, if he’d ever known. He didn’t need to meet Browning’s gaze to know the man was staring, waiting for a flicker of something on Neil’s face.

“Hm,” Browning said eventually. “Maybe you really are your father’s son.”

That made Neil look up. A hard-edged smile crept over his mouth. “I was wondering when we were going to get to that.”

“You have to admit it’s interesting. We’d started to think that Nathaniel Wesninski was just an innocent sport-obsessed kid, but maybe we’ll have to organise that cell next to Nathan’s after all. I mean, really – a knife?”

“We never get that far away from what we grow up with,” Neil remarked, standing slowly enough that Browning didn’t startle. He tugged up the edge of his shirt over the line of his hip, revealing a six-inch-long ridged scar.

Nathan had taken a cleaver to him with no finesse, and if it looked gruesome now it had been hideous on the side of a kid. He made sure Browning got a good long look at it before he pulled his shirt back down and dropped back into his seat.

“My father gave that to me when I was thirteen years old. That’s only one of them. Maybe I picked up the same weapon, but he and I aren’t the same kind of man. You know that. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now hoping I’ll sell him out to you.”

Browning raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

“Basic logic. You didn’t fly all the way out here just to tell me you don’t approve of my life choices, right? You want something.”

“You are smarter than you look,” Browning replied. Neil was starting to get tired of hearing that. “Shall I tell you the deal that’s on offer?”

“Consider me a captive audience,” Neil said, tapping at the arm of his chair.

“You should consider yourself lucky we’re in South Carolina. Most places, carrying a concealed weapon isn’t looked on quite so kindly,” Browning said. “As it is, we’ll get you released until trial on your own recognisance. Your lawyer is outside waiting to sort it out.”

 _Interesting._ Neil didn’t have a lawyer. He put that aside in favour of the important part. “And I’ll do what for you, exactly?”

“You already said it. We want information that will put your father away for the rest of his life. And I think if anyone has that information, you do.”

Neil thought, suddenly, of his mother. He remembered her voice, her blood drying on him, the way Lola had described breaking apart her body afterwards. This cop was offering what he probably thought of as justice, but Neil knew Mary Hatford would never really get what she deserved unless Nathan died exactly like she had.

“And if I won’t?” Neil asked.

“Then your release might get a little more complicated,” Browning suggested.

Neil rolled his head like he was considering the offer, ignoring how stiff his neck was. “I think that’s an empty threat.”

“Oh, you better believe that I can wrap you up in so much red tape you’ll be sitting in this room until next year except for trips to the bathroom so no one can say we denied you your basic human rights.”

“I don’t mean you can’t. I mean you won’t. You really think that I’ll tell you what you want to know out of the goodness of my heart, no threats necessary. You forgot one thing,” Neil said, fixing Browning with his stare. “If I talk, I’m dead. My life expectancy would be so short that I may as well have just let Drake kill me.”

“We can provide protection. We do for all of our high profile witnesses.”

“That hasn’t worked out so well for you in the past,” Neil reminded him. Browning stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

When Neil was fourteen and already in the Nest, Nathan had a defector in his ranks, one who’d run to the FBI for safety in exchange for evidence against the Butcher of Baltimore. Lola and Romero broken into the safehouse the traitor had been staying in under guard and killed everyone inside. Including the traitor’s wife and two young children.

No one was ever been arrested for the crime, though everyone knew who was responsible.

That was a tentative reference to everything that Browning was desperate to hear confirmed. Neil wouldn’t say another word about it.

He went on instead, “Come back again when my father is dead and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

Browning stared at Neil for a long moment like he could read the truth just from Neil’s face. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

Neil watched back. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He meant it. It wasn’t the justice his mother deserved, but it was better than nothing. Neil wanted desperately to have a hand in it.

Browning nodded slowly. “Wesninski is going to be released before next summer.”

“Then I guess we’ll see who pulls the trigger first.” No one in prison would have the guts to do it, which was a real shame.

“Keep your head down. Your weapon of choice worked for you this time, but in this day and age most people who bring knives to a fight end up dead,” Browning warned, standing at last. “I’ll be in touch.”

He didn’t waste time with any other niceties, pushing his chair back to stand. The plain suit was a disguise, as much as Neil’s oversized shirts were. Underneath it, Neil was willing to be Browning was pure muscle. Ex-military, he thought.

It turned out that Neil’s lawyer was actually Andrew’s lawyer. His more pressing issues aside, Neil gave the man a long look when he came in to speak with Neil privately.

This was a person who had a part in sentencing Andrew to taking the drugs in the first place. Neil would never have chosen being high every day of his life over prison, but he also didn’t have promises to keep like Andrew did. Waterhouse assured Neil that he would be released shortly before he left Neil alone again.

Neil understood Andrew now even better than he had before. And if he tasted bile in his mouth every time he thought about why, he could live with that. After all, it had to be someone pretty desperate who looked at Neil and saw a weapon to use.

He felt weirdly detached from this reality, the one where the FBI was here to speak with him and he still had a little blood under his nails.

After being outside the Nest, Neil had no idea Nathan was even coming up for release. He’d become sheltered in his world with the Foxes, his focus on Riko instead. That kind of distraction was likely to get him killed.

The door behind him opened again while Neil watched his fingers drum over and over on the table.

“What now?” he asked, not bothering to glance up.

“I wanted to offer you my gratitude in person.”

Neil looked up to Phil Higgins’ face. “Would you like me to tell you where to shove that, explicitly?”

Despite himself, Higgins smiled. “I’m beginning to see why Andrew likes you.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to any other cops without my lawyer present,” Neil said, leaning back in his seat to make his passive disinterest aggressive instead.

“I’m not here to ask questions. I came out here to wrap my opened case. This is just a bonus,” Higgins replied, gesturing to the room around them. “They’re just sorting out the details now. Twenty more minutes and you’ll be bailed.”

“Thanks for the update,” Neil said. “Now you can go.”

The corners of Higgins’ lips turned up again. He pulled out the empty seat and dropped himself into it so he and Neil were eye to eye.

“When you said you were playing with the big boys, I didn’t realise you meant the FBI would be involved,” he said.

“They’re here for me. Browning has nothing to do with all of this.”

“That isn’t what you implied when we spoke last,” Higgins commented. Neil felt a chill creep over him – no matter what he spilled to Browning about his father, he had no intention of doing the same with the Moriyamas, Riko included.

“I hope you aren’t congratulating yourself,” Neil said. His voice sounded silken – actually, he sounded like Andrew, velvet with something darker underneath. His temper, rarely timely, was turning his vision black at the edges.

“I’m here to thank you,” Higgins reiterated. He must have noticed Neil’s tone, because his words were cautious.

“You think you’re smart, but I warned you,” Neil murmured. “Even if Andrew told you two words beyond what I heard, you knew enough. Did you even try?”

“Try what?”

“To keep your prime suspect on home turf under your eye, not hundreds of miles away bullshitting Andrew’s idiotically gullible uncle into thinking he wanted to _reconnect_ with Andrew, when he really wanted to hurt him and then kill him,” Neil said. He was ice, all traces of amusement gone. “Cross-country flights are traceable. Did you try, or was that shit you spouted about protecting people a lie?”

Higgins didn’t have any humour left in his face, either. Maybe Andrew was right and he was honest, but Neil valued effectiveness over truthfulness.

“There are all kinds of things I could say about how the wheels turn slowly compared with the time it takes to buy a plane ticket these days, and how as cops we’re constrained by the law, but you’re right,” Higgins said. “I didn’t take Andrew as seriously as I should have, and all of you are the ones that suffered because of it. So thank you – and I’m sorry.”

So he was looking to be absolved of guilt, then. “I’m not the one you should apologise to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not the one who had to go to hospital because you fucked up.” Neil thought that should be obvious. Kevin had drawn a target on Andrew’s back and Neil had coloured it neon, but the sickening certainty that Higgins could have stopped Drake in his tracks meant Neil wouldn’t be forgiving him this lifetime.

“No. But you’re _here_ ,” Higgins said. “Don’t pretend that what happened didn’t hurt you, too.”

“I already have a psychiatrist,” Neil informed him. “We’re done here. If you want more information, you’ll have to consult my statement. Seeing as I doubt you’re meant to be in here right now, honourable cop.”

“Wesninski-”

It was the name that Neil wanted to hear least right now, just ahead of ‘Moriyama’. “ _Get out_.”

He went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Next: Neil gets a phone call and a promise.


	22. Chapter 22

Neil didn’t realise how much he’d missed having familiar faces around him until he was finally led out and saw Wymack waiting with Waterhouse. Wymack looked tired but steady, and his expression didn’t change at the sight of Neil.

He held the plastic bag of things Neil had handed over when he was brought to the station, his phone included. Neil stopped in front of him and took it, and then stayed close while they talked about him over his head. He figured they weren’t going to lock him back up just because he didn’t care to listen anymore.

He was still blindly angry, though mostly with himself. He should have been faster and smarter. He should have known better what they were walking into, should have trusted that when Andrew said they were heading into trouble it would be serious. He should have pushed Andrew harder to tell him about Drake Spear.

He was angry with Andrew, too.

Waterhouse had his own vehicle, so they split up in the parking lot. Neil led the way to Wymack’s car, turning his phone on as he walked. It was barely powered on when it started to ring in his hand.

Neil’s neck prickled. “Hello?”

“Nathaniel Wesninski.” Neil knew that voice. Sometimes he dreamed about it sentencing him to Castle Evermore and the Ravens and Riko all over again. Sometimes he dreamed it condemning him to a bullet instead.

“Lord Moriyama,” he said, and Wymack, who was still walking towards the car, stopped in his tracks.

Kengo was nothing like Riko – he would have Neil killed without a thought the moment he became too much of an inconvenience, but he wouldn’t enjoy it. His tone was matter-of-fact. “Is this going to present a problem?”

To him this was just business. That was why he hired Nathan.

“I won’t be convicted,” Neil said. “It was self-defence.”

“Your statement said that it was in defence of your teammate. Andrew…Minyard, is it?”

Neil wanted to tell him to get his mouth off of Andrew’s name, but he suspected that wouldn’t be conducive to his survival. It was hideous to hear him talking about information that he shouldn’t know from hundreds of miles away. Apparently, Columbia PD had a leak.

“Yes, Lord Moriyama. Spear targeted Minyard specifically, but I got involved. When he threatened me I killed him.” Close enough to the truth, Neil hoped.

“And the Special Agent?”

“My name caught his attention,” Neil said. “I didn’t tell him anything. You know I wouldn’t.”

That was true, too. Neil knew the precise dollar value of his life to Kengo.

“Try not to involve yourself in any more random acts of violence. You don’t need that kind of publicity – it won’t be good for your career,” Kengo said. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Lord Moriyama,” Neil said, “Of course.”

The line went dead.

Neil stared at his phone. He had, in the back of his mind, wondered while he was locked in a cell alone overnight whether this would be the final straw. He’d wondered if he was walking out of the police station and into that bullet he dreamed about.

He preferred the threatening call, but he still felt sick to his stomach as he stuffed his phone into his pocket and continued to the car. He folded himself into the passenger seat as soon as the locks clicked, refusing to say anything until Wymack was inside with the door closed.

“What the hell was that about?”

Neil had been speaking Japanese. “Kengo wanted to check that I knew I was being watched very closely.”

“That – how closely are we talking here?” Wymack asked, looking around the carpark. “He can’t really – this is a _police station_.”

“Cops are easy to buy,” Neil said dully. “Don’t forget who we’re dealing with, here.”

Wymack hissed but started the car and got them on the road. “You aren’t in trouble with him, are you?”

“No more than I was before.” That effectively killed the conversation. Neil rested his head on the window, not caring that the vibrations rattled his skull enough to hurt.

Wymack was probably wondering whether or not Neil was worth the risk after all. It was difficult to understand the depths of insanity Neil had sunk to when he’d made his deal with the main branch until it slapped him in the face. Wymack’s cheek was undoubtedly still stinging.

“Where are the others?” he asked eventually.

“At the house in town,” Wymack said, “Except for Andrew. Betsy took him to Easthaven Hospital – she organised to have him committed so they can get him clean.”

Neil’s entire world dropped from beneath his feet. He inhaled once, then exhaled, breathing through the panic. He felt utterly unanchored for a long moment. The oxygen to his brain bought only one thought with it. “Good.”

“Well, the others are divided about that. Aaron was insistent that we go ahead. Kevin isn’t happy about it.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Neil said. Kevin’s protest would be purely Exy-related.

Wymack tilted in his seat to dig in his pocket, pulling out a folded slip of paper. He half-turned to hand it to Neil, meeting his eyes for a second as he did so. Wymack looked exhausted but patient, somehow. Neil didn’t know what his own expression gave away.

“He said to give this to you,” Wymack said. Neil took it from his fingers, slumping back into his seat to unfold it. Wymack did him the courtesy of not watching him read it, for which Neil was grateful; his hands were shaking again.

It was simple and to the point.

**_Watch him for me_. _I’ll owe you one._**

He hadn’t even bothered to initial it.

Those eight words shook him to the core. He didn’t know if he’d realised the extent to which Andrew trusted him – he wasn’t sure that Andrew knew either – but the proof of that trust was in his hand.

He blew out a long breath. Wrapped in the paper was another key, this one more recognisable by the shape and logo – Andrew’s car key. Neil clenched his fist around it for a moment, feeling the firm press of it in his skin.

“Hey,” Wymack said, less brisk than usual. “You did good, okay?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Neil said through his teeth.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “You did what you had to. That’s okay, Neil.”

“Okay.” His chest felt tight. It was lucky they were pulling up in front of the cousins’ house, because there wasn’t enough oxygen in the car. Neil was out before they were fully stationary, ignoring Wymack’s protest. He held onto the edge of the door so hard his fingers hurt, the pain a restart button for his heart.

“Neil,” Wymack said.

“I’m fine,” Neil said. He wasn’t gasping despite how lightheaded he felt. Wymack was suspiciously quiet but he kindly didn’t comment. He didn’t move, either. “Give me a minute.”

“One minute,” Wymack said. “Waterhouse needs to go over the terms of your bail with you. Don’t think I didn’t notice you weren’t listening before.”

The banality of the statement made Neil laugh, even though it sounded hideous from his abused throat. “One minute.”

He heard rather than saw Wymack move off. Once the front door closed, he turned and rested his forehead against the roof of the car, letting the feel of it ground him.

_Not every door is unlockable. But some are._

To Andrew, handing over the key could have been convenience. Neil just didn’t think so. This wasn’t the same incentive to stay as it had been then – Neil wasn’t going anywhere. It was right on the edge of his awareness that this was a symbol, but he couldn’t make that thought concrete.

At some point Andrew had turned from shackles to the stability of a floor under Neil’s feet. Neil just didn’t know when that happened.

“Neil,” Renee said from behind him, startling him.

She was standing a good few metres away, arms wrapped around herself against the cold air. Neil stared at her like she was a mirage. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t look offended by his blunt question, giving him a small smile.  “Kevin didn’t give Coach much to go on when he rang, but what he did get across made me think I might be needed here.”

“You picked up Andrew’s car,” Neil said. That made sense: Andrew trusted Renee more than he trusted all of the others, in terms of his car and everything else. “You didn’t go with him to Easthaven?”

“Oh, no. Aaron did.”

Neil blinked. “Aaron?”

“I think he probably needed to see Andrew checked in with his own eyes,” she said. “I’ve never heard him argue for anything like that. I’m not sure Andrew has either.”

Wymack had said that Aaron was in favour of Easthaven, but Neil hadn’t realised he was so vehement about it. He was surprised Andrew hadn’t said no just to spite his brother. “Was Andrew difficult to convince?”

“Once he decided about Kevin, no,” Renee said. “It wouldn’t have mattered if he had. Betsy has the final say on Andrew’s medication. Some of the others are still unconvinced, but I think they’ll come around.”

It was all sweet optimism. That wasn’t the Renee Neil wanted to talk to right now, though. He wanted the Renee who had been, the one who beat Neil eight times out of ten when they sparred. She seemed to recognise that.

“I offered to keep these for him, but he wanted you to have them,” she said, reaching into her coat pocket. She pulled free the armbands that Neil had given to Nicky for safekeeping, holding them out. Neil put his hand over them in her palm but didn’t take them. The knives were still sheathed inside.

“I’m not sure how happy people would be to know I had them,” he said. His was locked up as evidence, the absence of its weight nagging at him.

“I’m glad you could use yours when you needed it,” Renee said. She, after all, had taught him more than Nathan ever had. _E_ _ither you get good enough to win, or you die. Seeing as I don’t want you to die, we’re going to keep doing this until you win._ “Take them. Don’t leave yourself unarmed right now.”

She must have done something right, because Neil was still standing here, and he felt the knives under his fingers as weapons, not as symbols. He took them and pushed them into his own pocket. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t come here for Andrew. I came for you,” she said. “You know I’ve been where you are. If you need anything, you can come to me.”

Neil’s throat knotted up, but he managed a nod.

Wymack stuck his head out the front door. “I said one minute and it’s been ten. Get your ass in here, Neil.”

The conditions of Neil’s bail were relatively simple. He would need to stay in touch with Waterhouse, and notify him whenever he left the state. It took fifteen minutes for Woodhouse to talk him through it and then sign some paperwork. Neil managed to stop himself from yawning, but only barely: he hadn’t slept a second last night and he was running on fumes.

As soon as Waterhouse’s car left the driveway, Neil was on his feet and pouring himself a coffee. He added plenty of milk and then threw it back. His day wasn’t done yet. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

Wymack, who was sitting with Abby at the table, looked up and gave him a wry smile. “Not that I know of. Your pack might be able to tell you more.”

The terminology made him pause mid-sip. Thanks to Andrew, they _were_ his now. He wasn’t sure how that was going to work, and he certainly wasn’t sure how Aaron would take it.

“They’re in Nicky’s room,” Abby volunteered. Neil nodded and turned away.

The door was shut but he didn’t bother knocking. They would be waiting for him.

Nicky was flat on his back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while Renee perched by his hip. They were holding hands. Kevin was in the desk chair with his eyes closed; though they opened at the sound of the door. They all looked like they’d had the same amount of sleep as Neil.

Neil was suddenly aware of the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and that he could have done a better job of cleaning blood from his hands. “Can I borrow a shirt?”

Nicky pushed himself up immediately, glad to have something to do. “Yeah, of course. Here.” He dug out a pile and thrust them into Neil’s arms.

There was a bathroom right next door, but Neil didn’t care enough to go there. He put his back to the others and changed as quickly as he could, taking the spare plastic bag Nicky offered to put his in. He’d throw it in the garbage on the way out.

Nicky asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Neil said. Nicky’s grief was carved into his wan face – all the Foxes were used to not getting what they wanted, but to have a potential family reunion end so horribly was another level of cruelty. “Are you?”

Nicky’s smile was wobbly. “Yeah. It’s good to have you back.”

Neil turned to Kevin next. He was hovering behind Nicky and fidgeting with a pen, turning it around and around in his fingers. It was a trait that Neil had thought Riko had shamed him out of.

“Neil,” he said. “Did you hear about Andrew?”

“Yes,” Neil replied. Kevin sounded like he’d been working himself into a state. Neil was used to his anxiety, but not like this.

“He shouldn’t have gone,” he said, looking for Neil’s agreement. “It’s not the right timing. With the season-”

Neil didn’t think. He just moved.

Kevin rattled the house when Neil drove him straight back into the wall, the ball of his thumb pressed into the divot of Kevin’s collarbone. Kevin was tall, but Neil had played defence and knew how to take down players bigger than him. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it did leave him gaping like a fish.

“Kevin,” Neil said, “I’ve always known that you can be a selfish piece of shit, but you might want to rethink your protests.”

Distantly, he heard his name being snapped. Renee’s hand was tight around his free wrist, restraining but not actively pulling him away. Neil didn’t sound like Andrew – he sounded like his father, an undisguised threat. Kevin knew that, which was why he didn’t dare say a word.

“What the hell is going here?” Wymack demanded as he banged into the room, snapping Neil out of his haze. When he pulled his hand back, Kevin started to slide down the wall.

“Kevin needs to remember exactly to whom he owes his comfy new life,” Neil said, swallowing everything else like poison. He wanted to scream, or beat the walls down with just his body, but he swallowed that down too.

He wouldn’t dare utter the words in English without proof, not with the others listening, but he felt comfortable enough to say them in French. “Did you forget who brought Riko down on their heads?”

He wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Kevin to go whiter than he already had, but more blood drained from his cheeks. “You can’t be-”

Wymack’s hand hooked in the back of Neil’s shirt, towing him backwards. “Let’s all stow the attitude, shall we? Wesninski, you’re done.”

Kevin’s horror did what nothing else had managed to, finally erasing the last of Neil’s anger and leaving him empty and shaken instead. He let Wymack pull him out of the room, his entire body aching like an overstrained muscle.

“Do you think we could go an entire fifteen minutes without descending into fighting?” Wymack demanded, weariness in his voice that probably came from him repeating that sentiment more than once already today. He released Neil when they made it back into the kitchen.

Abby was standing by the table like she was waiting. “Do I need to go down there?”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Neil said. It didn’t come out as the snap he intended – he sounded like he felt. “Is there anything else we have to do, or can we leave? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“If you drive them back, am I going to have to turn around to pick Kevin up from the side of the road later?” Wymack asked, semi-seriously.

“No.” Neil didn’t think that Kevin would be opening his mouth around him any time soon.

“Then Abby will gather up the others and we’ll go,” Wymack permitted. She nodded and went, leaving the two of them alone. “Hey. Betsy’s first thing on Monday.”

“I figured,” Neil said, because there was no point on protesting now. “Tell the others I’m in the car.”

“I think you might be underestimating how long it’s going to take for them to be ready.” It wasn’t a protest.

“No, I’m not.” Half an hour and he was already desperate to be outside again. He let himself out and busied himself with Andrew’s car, unlocking it and then adjusting the seat back a click. He hadn’t driven much in the last year, but the mechanical routine was relaxing. He got into the front seat and closed the door behind him.

He hoped that the others took their time. His hands were unsteady, and he wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to be still. He rested his head on one arm balanced on the steering wheel and gripped the car key in his other hand until the shivering stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Next: Neil attempts to talk to Aaron.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks even more than normal to Iris ( [tumblr](http://exyfexyfoxes.tumblr.com/) / [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/exyfexyfoxes/pseuds/exyfexyfoxes) ) for stopping me. Just in general.

Neil was taught to drive by one of Edgar Allen’s defensive coaches, but his vividest memories of back then involved him driving with Jean in the pitch black of night.

It was completely illegal seeing as Jean was nowhere near old enough to qualify as a supervisor for a sixteen-year-old learner driver, but they were never caught. That didn’t just extend to the cops; they weren’t caught by any of the others Ravens either.

It had been a tradition right up until Neil left the Nest. He doubted that Jean carried the habit on in his absence. It was incredibly freeing, having miles and miles of road unfurling in front of the car. They’d never talked about running, about following the highway until daybreak and never going back, but Neil had certainly thought about it.

He was a realist. He’d known then that Kengo would use his vast resources to bring them back. The attempt would never be worth the punishment.

Those memories swum at the back of his mind as he drove Renee, Nicky and Kevin back to the Tower. Jean’s relaxed sprawl and his thoughtful silence, the rumble of the engine, and the blast of air from the cracked window that made Neil’s ears complain.

The dorms looked exactly like they had on Saturday morning. Neil looked up at them with his hand blocking the late-autumn sun as the others silently climbed out of the car behind him. It was the first time since he’d arrived that he truly realised just how ridiculous it was to feel safe here. There was no more protection in this building than there was anywhere else.

He needed to remember that. Especially now, with Kevin already fitting himself at Neil’s shoulder like it had never been any different.

When the elevator stopped on their floor, Dan, Matt and Allison were in the hall waiting in the doorway to the girls’ room. Kevin headed straight for his suite. Nicky followed, though he kept his arm around Renee’s waist to take her with him.

That left Neil to go to them alone, for which he was quietly grateful. His experience with hugs was limited to the triumphant ones he got on the court, but Matt’s embrace was welcome.

“It’s good to have you back,” Dan said once they’d broken apart. “Are the others alright?”

Thankfully, she didn’t ask after Neil. “Yeah. Tired, I guess. Probably as good as they can be right now.”

Matt said, “Mom was going to bail you out, but Allison got there first.”

Neil hadn’t even thought to ask. He blinked and glanced between the two of them.

The woman in question shook out her curtain of hair. It was only after Neil stared at her for a moment that she deigned to answer. “It might get boring here without you.”

Despite himself, Neil managed a smile. “I’d hate for you to be bored.”

“God knows where we’d be without you,” Dan said. “Have you eaten?”

Neil’s stomach rolled at the idea. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

It was three in the afternoon, but none of them commented. Neil said a quick goodbye to the girls and let Matt follow him back to their suite. He climbed straight into a scalding shower, washing off all the fear sweat of the last day and a half, as well as the last of the blood.

By the time he was done, he had a message from Betsy on his phone – Neil had texted her to let him know when she and Aaron left Easthaven. He set his alarm to go off in an hour and crawled into his bed, shoving Andrew’s armbands down the side of his mattress. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

His phone was still clutched in his hand when the alarm went off; he hadn’t moved an inch while he slept. He felt like someone had scrubbed him with sandpaper inside and out, with a special focus on his eyes.

Matt was sitting on the couch with the TV on but muted, his phone in his hand. Watching over Neil, he presumed. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, and then yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “Aaron should be back soon. I need to talk to him.”

“You want me to come?”

“Thanks, but no.” It would be difficult enough without an audience. By his smile and nod, Matt understood that.

Neil wasn’t the only one waiting for Aaron, apparently. Katelyn had hitched herself up on the concrete wall that divided the entrance to the Tower from the first parking spaces. She was staring down at her phone, but she glanced up and froze at the sight of Neil.

“Sorry,” he attempted. “I’m just hoping to talk to Aaron before he goes.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll leave-” she started guiltily.

“It’s okay. I’m not Andrew. I don’t care about whatever it is that you and Aaron are doing,” Neil said. He would have been blind to miss their relationship – the only reason Andrew did was because he refused to look. “I just need to talk to him first.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

He had barely said two words to Katelyn in the time that they’d known each other, but he knew that she was usually chatty. It took a couple of minutes of dead silence for him to realise that she was genuinely nervous of him and not just distracted. He swallowed, unsure what to make of that. He didn’t think he had the words to reassure her.

“You’ll stay with him,” he said. “Won’t you?”

She blinked at him, and then her face softened. “Yes. Of course.”

A car pulled up near them, catching her attention. Aaron climbed out of the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

Katelyn met him halfway, throwing herself into his arms. Aaron, who Neil had never seen be even vaguely affectionate in the months since they’d met, clutched her to him. His face was buried in her shoulder and his grip radiated quiet desperation.

Betsy had started to climb out of the car at the sight of Neil, but a wave from him stopped her. The movements drew Aaron’s attention.

Neil hadn’t expected Aaron to be pleased to see him waiting and he wasn’t disappointed. Aaron’s expression turned black as a storm cloud at the sight of him.

“What do you want?” he asked, ignoring Katelyn’s murmured protest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Betsy,” Neil said without looking at her, listening to her soft affirmation and the sound of the car starting again. Aaron wasn’t Andrew, but it didn’t pay to take his eyes off him even so.

Between the cops and Kevin, Neil had burnt through all his anger, but Aaron was still boiling inside.

“I don’t want to fight,” Neil said quietly.

“Then you should fuck off,” Aaron warned. He pushed Katelyn behind him, his entire body taut with antagonism.

Neil didn’t want to waste energy when he knew Aaron wouldn’t hear anything he said. He didn’t have the stamina to bang his head against a brick wall tonight. He nodded and turned on his heel to make his way back up to their floor.

Matt looked up from his phone again when Neil returned. “That was quick.”

Neil shrugged. “He wasn’t in a listening mood.”

He’d barely sat down next to Matt when someone knocked on the door once, hard.

It was, of course, Aaron; this time without Katelyn. He pushed past Neil into the room, barely avoiding knocking him back, and clicked his fingers at the open door. “Get out, Boyd.”

Matt went, though not without a truly vicious glare at Aaron.

Aaron watched him go, and turned back when the door closed behind him. “Tell me why Andrew brought you with him.”

Neil said, “Because I owed him a favour. That was what he asked for.”

Aaron’s face turned incredulous. “And you didn’t _ask_ him why?”

“If you think prodding him for information gets you anything except bullshit and bruises, then you clearly don’t talk to him enough,” Neil replied.

“So you didn’t know that that would happen.”

“I don’t think Andrew knew what was going to happen,” Neil said. “He had his suspicions. He never would have gone if he’d known for sure. He never would have let _you_ go.”

And that was Aaron’s issue. “He said that I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought…”

“You thought that he was being a stubborn asshole,” Neil said when it became clear Aaron wasn’t going to go on. “Because that’s what everyone thinks when he says no.”

Aaron looked sick. “I said I’d pretend to be him.”

It was a terrible thought. Andrew had fought Drake and lost – Aaron wouldn’t have stood a chance. That wasn’t necessarily what was awful about it, though. Aaron knew that that was what had forced Andrew’s acquiescence, now that they were standing in the aftermath. He looked like he couldn’t believe he’d told Neil, of all people.

“What happened – that’s not on you,” Neil said. “But you’re right. You should be asking yourself why you didn’t know any of this.”

Aaron’s gaze shot to Neil from the spot on the wall that he’d been staring at. The return of his anger was more of a relief than Neil had expected – he hadn’t wanted to talk to Aaron with the intention of breaking him.

“I don’t pretend to know the intricacies of your relationship. I don’t really care. But at some point you taught him that you won’t believe what he says,” Neil said. “But hey, maybe you’ll be lucky. Things will be different when he comes back. If you’re willing to make it work, maybe you can convince him that you are trustworthy.”

Aaron’s expression turned dismissive. “You don’t know what he’s like off the drugs. He won’t even look at us.”

“I don’t think you know what he’s like at all,” Neil replied. “I think you’re blinded by what happened to your mother.”

“He murdered her,” Aaron said. His voice was cracking with an incandescent rage.

“He did it for you,” Neil said, “Because she beat the hell out of you. He told me himself.”

“He was _lying-_ ”

“ _He doesn’t lie_.” Apparently Neil had a grain of anger left after all. “And you know what? I bet he doesn’t regret what he did to your mother for the same reason I don’t regret what I did to Drake.”

That brought Aaron to a halt. His gaze flickered down to Neil’s hands, and then back to his face. The dark look in his eyes, the one that wiped away every drop of anger, was the same expression Andrew wore sometimes.

Perfect understanding.

“Yeah,” Neil said more softly. “You hadn’t thought of it like that, right?”

The door slammed hard enough to rattle behind him when he stormed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil 'I don't want to fight, EXCEPT THAT I DO' Wesninski.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Betsy.


	24. Chapter 24

By the next morning, the press was all over the events from Saturday night like flies on a corpse. It was probably the perfect story – the mysterious former Raven, Nathaniel Wesninski, arrested, and someone dead. It was a blessing that they didn’t know about Andrew yet, but all of the Foxes knew that wouldn’t last.

Once again, there were pictures of Neil’s face all over the Internet in conjunction with truly outrageous speculation. Dan had knocked on their door specifically to warn him away from searching his name, as though Neil would have anyway.

There was nothing they could do about avoiding campus gossip. Matt came back from the dining hall looking grim and furious, which made Neil grateful he’d opted for a protein shake in their suite instead.

“Piranhas,” Matt snarled, ruffling through his textbook without reading anything, considering his rate of page turning. “Fucking… _parasites_.”

“Human nature,” Neil said. He’d expected this fallout – for a start, he’d watched the masses descend into hysteria over Kevin’s ‘disappearance’ months ago. He had a love/hate relationship with the public’s obsession with Exy; it was making his already complicated life more so, but he liked to feel as though he shared at least one thing with the baying crowds at games.

He devoted his attention to being frustrated that Wymack had cancelled their morning practice instead. He could have used the outlet, the purity of physical exhaustion.

Instead, Betsy had moved his usual Monday appointment to eight in the morning before his first class. Neil was accustomed to her by now even though he hadn’t been entirely forthright with her since his first session, but it still seemed like a bad trade-off.

Neil took Andrew’s car to Reddin, knowing that Kevin and Nicky were using their excuses from class this morning to stay in bed. Aaron hadn’t reappeared since storming out with Katelyn. Neil wasn’t worried; he knew he’d come back sooner rather than later.

Betsy was already there when Neil stepped into the waiting room, despite the fact that he was on time. He baulked a bit at her piercing expression; it was a break from their established routine, where Neil fed her slivers and she pretended as though that was all there was with a smile.

“Neil, come in,” she said, leading him to her office.

He was embarrassed to find the order of the room calming now. The weeks of exposure probably had something to do with it, but so did Betsy’s familiar voice talking him through grounding himself against fear. Those lessons were practical, physical – things that were very _Neil –_ and admittedly effective.

This session wasn’t going to be like that. He could tell that from the lack of chatter as they took their usual seats and Betsy turned her recorder on.

“How are you, Neil?” she asked.

“Fine,” he answered. It was a pretty standard response of his, one that Betsy usually accepted without comment.

Today, she said, “That seems like a very simple answer after a complicated weekend.”

“I’m a simple person. And it wasn’t that complicated.” At least, not when broken down to the component parts. Neil’s entire life was about finding ways to survive over and over as best he could, and this weekend had been no different.

She hummed. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to Andrew before we left.”

“He wrote me a note,” Neil said. He’d left it folded into Andrew’s armbands in their hiding spot this morning. _I’ll owe you one_. The words were burnt into the back of his eyelids; he saw them every time he blinked.

“It’s not quite the same, though, is it?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’s where he needs to be, and so am I.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to feel something because of it. How you feel absolutely does matter.”

“If you mean ‘how I feel about being stuck in a cell all night’, then there’s nothing to say you don’t already know. And if you mean Drake, then you need to realise I don’t care, and I’m not sorry.” Surely that was the heart of the matter, he thought.

Apparently not. “I think how you feel about your friend being hurt is more important, actually.”

“He’s not my friend,” Neil said before he could think better of it. “We’re teammates.”

“Do you think that’s all it is? Because Andrew was surprisingly amenable to being committed to Easthaven knowing he could trust you with Kevin and his family. And even if he isn’t your friend, that doesn’t preclude you from being his.”

“We-” Neil had to stop. He didn’t have an answer for that, though the words to explain himself were piling up on his tongue. He hadn’t – thought about it. He’d been so determined to make the Foxes a team, a proper team, that he hadn’t considered friendship at all. He didn’t know much about it – he didn’t think his bonds with Jean and Kevin counted, forced as they were by proximity and desperation. He didn’t think that killing someone for Andrew made him Andrew’s friend, though.

He said instead, “I cared about Kevin first.”

She accepted that with a nod, though probably she’d achieved her goal of making Neil’s head spin.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a relief to him to know that Kevin is in good hands,” she said, which almost made Neil laugh. His hands were covered in blood, just dripping with it, but that was what Andrew knew and trusted. Nothing so flimsy as friendship.

They were the same kind of man. Neil had known that for a while now.

She reached out and switched her recorder off. Neil glanced at the clock on the wall; they still had fifteen minutes of their session left.

“Neil, you told me in our very first session that you felt damaged as a result of being a part of Edgar Allen’s Exy team. Have you ever considered pressing charges?” she asked.

“No,” Neil replied. It would be a pointless exercise – they had the money to buy their way out of any conviction and plenty leftover to turn Neil into the criminal besides.

“You don’t think you deserve justice for what happened to you?”

“I don’t think the law is capable of giving me any kind of justice. That’s not the way it works in my world.”

“It’s all one world. Yours is no different from mine.”

“I know you know that isn’t true. What I don’t understand why you’re asking this now.” Neil needed to be more concerned with going into a court as the person on trial right now, not as a witness.

“I said to Andrew that I would be there for Kevin, whatever he needed,” Betsy said, “But he told me that you’re the one I should be worried about.”

Neil stiffened. “In what sense?”

“I thought it was a given that I would do my job. He meant in the sense that you are the one actively in danger, not Kevin,” she replied. “We haven’t talked about it that much, but I know that you both left the Ravens for a very good reason. And if that reason is going to follow you here, then I think that we should head it off at the pass.”

“Even if that were true, a legal battle won’t stop them.”

“No, but you’re a public figure now. Use that if you have to in order to keep yourself safe. It’s much harder to hurt someone in the spotlight.”

Neil tilted his head. “I might believe that, if it weren’t for Kevin.” It hadn’t mattered that Kevin had fans that drew his number on their own cheeks – that hadn’t stopped Riko.

“My point is that you don’t have to fight on your own anymore. All of us who care for the Foxes are here to help you.”

That sounded nice. Unrealistic, though. She and Higgins were the same: idealists. “You can’t help me. You have no idea what you are even suggesting.”

“Then you can’t do this alone. If your motivation for saying no is that you want to protect the rest of us, then know that we’re hardier than you think.”

“If you think I would make a martyr of myself, you’re wrong.”

“I think you are the kind of man who would sacrifice a great deal in order to protect the people you care about,” she said. “That’s an admirable trait, Neil, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I never thought it did.”

Neil had taken the occasional bullet for people over the years, but he was more often the one firing the gun. There were several Ravens and ex-Ravens who could attest to that.

“Do you think I’d be here now if I never fought back on my own behalf?” he said. “Most of them hated me, but they respect strength. Don’t paint me as a helpless victim or some kind of sacrificial lamb – I might have been one, once, but that didn’t last long. If I’m in danger, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Her eyes were heavy as concrete. “I’ve worked extensively in court in a variety of positions. And I want you to know that if you ever need an advocate in any sense – or even just a listening ear – I’m here.”

“It won’t happen,” Neil replied. “But thank you.”

“And if you want to speak about what happened with Drake Spear…” she started.

“That won’t happen, either.” Neil was sick of hearing that name. It made him want to smash every stupid figurine on Betsy’s desk. That was the only feeling Neil had, and it wasn’t worth discussing. He had never been one for regret.

The clock read eight-thirty. Neil thanked Betsy and left her too-knowing gaze behind.

 

* * *

 

Friday’s game against the JD Tornadoes would have been an easy win with or without Andrew. Renee put up the best defence she’d produced all season in goal, and her backliners didn’t let her down. Aaron played out of his skin, despite having missed practice with his disappearing act up until Thursday morning.

Neil, who was greeted by the crowd with howls, ignored everything except the feel of his racquet in his hand, his mark and his teammates. He outplayed every striker on the court.

The Tornadoes didn’t stand a chance. Their miserable three goals earned them no favours with their home crowd when compared with the Foxes’ twelve. They were bottom of the table anyway, but Neil was willing to bet the line would be facing a serious shuffle come spring.

Neil didn’t feel sorry for them. A more skilled team would have acquitted themselves better, so they deserved any ridicule heaped on them. That might have been the Raven in him, though.

They were bitter enough that the post-game handshake nearly turned into a brawl when the first player in line refused to shake Neil’s hand. Neil was in the middle of Foxes between Aaron and Allison, and Allison went after the JD player so quick that she nearly knocked Neil over. Dan grabbed her before she could do more than floor him, and the refs sent them all off to prevent things from devolving further.

Neil was cold when he came through the court door, stalking straight past the reporters clamouring outside the locker room entrance. Wymack had already warned him not to say a word to them before they’d arrived this evening.

Nicky burst through the door second after Neil. “Those assholes are just sore losers. You’re okay, right?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said as the rest of the team banged inside bar Dan, Matt and Wymack, who would have stayed to make sure no reporters asked questions they weren’t allowed to.

“Good game, dickhead,” Allison said as she swept past into the girls’ changing room.

“Nice shove,” Neil returned. “I think I like your upper cut better though.” That one had made Riko spit blood back in October.

Her laugh was delighted and somewhat vicious. “I’ve been working on it.”

It was enough to remind Neil why he was here: even amid enemies he was with his team. What the papers were saying didn’t matter, as long as his game didn’t suffer. They needed to keep winning – Neil wanted to see the Ravens come semi-finals, on the only court that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Their Thanksgiving was spent at Abby’s house. The Ravens didn’t celebrate most major holidays – Christmas included – so Neil found the fuss a little alien. Technically, Ravens could take training days off, but it was a risk. Starting positions depended on performance and dedication to the team, so most of the players stayed through. Neil and Jean had never had a choice anyway.

Kevin was better at faking normality than Neil, apparently; the other Foxes hadn’t known about the lack of celebration in the Nest until Neil admitted he couldn’t remember his last holiday meal.

That had caused an outpouring of concern, mostly from Nicky. The upperclassmen nearly stayed just on Neil’s behalf until he put his foot down. He’d caused them enough trouble this semester without keeping them from their families, too.

Neil was content to stay with Aaron, Nicky and Kevin for the break. Finals were looming and Neil was having even more trouble maintaining his grades than usual, so he spent the time they weren’t eating doing over his coursework at Abby’s kitchen table. Kevin joined him most days, quietly absorbed in his books. Neil found him more of a welcome presence than he’d thought he might.

Kevin had regressed after Neil snapped at him and with the Christmas banquet looming. Gone was the man who had stood his ground on the court in October. It was impressive in a way, watching someone so afraid hold himself together day after day, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

Neil was unwilling to push him any further right now – he wanted to break him, but it needed to be the kind of break that healed stronger, not the sort that crippled. So he stayed close and let Kevin lean on him.

They also finalised their Christmas plans – they were spending the two weeks with Matt and his mother in New York City. Nicky had been ecstatic with the idea and had dragged Aaron into the planning with the force of his optimism. Kevin would go where Neil went, and Neil found that he was looking forward to it despite the rigmarole of clearing the trip with Waterhouse.

It took until his return to Fox Tower after the break to finally take Andrew’s armbands out of their hiding spot. He hadn’t given them to Neil for them to sit there, Neil knew, but on closer examination of them Neil realised he had an issue.

He had always carried a switchblade, secured to his side with tape – easy to hide in the shape of his body, and so worth the discomfort. Andrew’s were the straight-edged sort that needed a sheath, unless Neil wanted to give himself a nasty injury, and those sheaths were sewed into the bands themselves with surprisingly fine stitches. In order to carry like he always had, he would need to cut the stitches or find a different sheath to fit one.

He sat in his bunk with them in his lap a long time before, trying not to think about it too much, he pulled one of the bands onto his left arm. It was easily concealed under his long-sleeved shirt, black against black. The weight of it was unfamiliar along his forearm, but if he’d gotten used to it at his hip he could get used to this to.

None of the other Foxes noticed his new accessory except for Renee, and her only reaction was to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys!
> 
> Next: the Christmas banquet


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of abuse in a psychiatric/medical facility in this chapter!

The Christmas banquet was within driving distance, though the seven-hour journey barely seemed doable for the Foxes after their blowout end-of-semester party the night before. Neil, who skipped the drinking and so the hangover, had his hands full pouring liquor and coffee down Kevin’s throat to get him onto the bus. Once he was safely ensconced in his seat and asleep, Neil was left to his thoughts.

Neil had surprised himself; the closer they’d gotten to the banquet, the less frightened he’d felt. Today, all he had was the bloody-minded determination that had seen him this far, and Andrew’s knife on the inside of his wrist.

Aaron and Katelyn were sitting together up by the girls so the cheerleader could chat. She was Neil’s best ally in pulling Aaron back into the team right now, not that she even realised it. She’d formed a fast friendship with Dan and had been half the force behind their party last night. Aaron followed her like she was the only point of light in his life, her hand always in his.

Similarly, Nicky spent more time hassling Allison now than he ever had. She took it with – not grace, exactly, but she kept her responses less needling than she might have. That the other upperclassmen were welcoming was a given with Andrew five weeks gone, thanks to their dedication to Neil’s teamwork plan, but Nicky seemed to value Allison’s spiky friendship more than the others.

That just left Kevin, who finally woke up half an hour out from Breckenridge. Neil slid into his seat, pushing Kevin’s legs out of the way to make room for himself and interrupting Kevin’s fixed stare at nothing out the window.

“You aren’t to leave my side tonight,” he said in rapid French. “Not for the Master. Not for anyone, unless I ask you to. Do you understand me?”

Kevin blinked at him slowly.

“ _Kevin_.”

He let out a long breath, his eyes darting to Neil’s face and then off to the empty air behind him like there was someone else standing over his shoulder. “How are you not afraid?”

Neil considered saying that he was, but that wasn’t the truth, and both of them knew it. He’d pushed fear down so far he’d swallowed it, and he didn’t think it’d make a return any time soon. “Because I don’t have a choice.”

It was the same way he’d felt months ago when he set out from Castle Evermore to state his case before Kengo Moriyama. He’d known as well as anyone that he might have been embarking on the fool’s mission Jean had written it off as. Facts just didn’t mean much to a man unafraid.

“You are a Fox,” Neil reminded him. “Whatever else happens, you need to hold onto that. And I’m right here.”

“Okay,” Kevin said finally, the last breath of a drowning man before he let himself sink.

Thankfully, Neil was a strong swimmer.

They drove past the Raven buses again as they pulled into Breckenridge’s stadium parking; they were amongst the last of the teams to arrive. The black and red sent a wave of expectation rolling through Neil’s body all the way to his toes.

Like last time, Wymack shooed the majority of the team off of the bus before making his way down to Neil and Kevin. This time he didn’t bring vodka, only more gruffly bolstering words for Kevin.

Not just for Kevin, either. He eventually turned his gaze on Neil and said, “ _You_ will not be drinking anything that does not come from a sealed bottle this evening. I don’t care if Tetsuji Moriyama tries to pour it down your throat himself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Neil replied, moving to climb out of his seat. He expected Wymack to let him go, but he dropped an arm in Neil’s path instead.

“I’m not done,” he said. “If Riko approaches you, walk away. I don’t trust you not to escalate things the second you open your mouth.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“At least promise me you’ll try.”

Neil stared at him. Wymack looked him over, head to toe, and then blew out a sigh. “I’d settle for an attempt at not ending the evening with a fist-fight.”

“I’ll do my best,” Neil permitted.

The court was festively decorated, one corner dominated by an enormous Christmas tree. The Foxes were seated with the Hornets, who were at peace with the end of the season despite their loss to the Foxes a few months back. Neil, seated between Kevin and Allison again, was the focus of their attention but not their questions – they didn’t dare to talk to the man who had purportedly killed someone. Neil didn’t care; he left the conversation to Allison, who was very slightly more personable than him, and Kevin, who was willing as always to talk about Exy.

Tetsuji was the one to announce the final selections for spring championships in his blank monotone. It wasn’t new information, but the Foxes still smiled to hear their name in the top two in the district. Their winning streak saw them hard on the heels of the first-ranked Ravens in terms of points, which hadn’t gone unremarked-on in the media.

As another of the coaches – this one with a less funerary tone – took the microphone, one of the Hornets finally mustered the courage to speak to Neil. “Did you really change from defence to offense at the start of the season?”

That was common knowledge, so to Neil it seemed like a waste of breath. “Yes.”

“You can’t tell at all. You play like you’ve been a striker all your life,” she said. Neil looked her over again but couldn’t place her without her number on. “It’s impressive that you managed to beat the Jackals to second.”

“I didn’t do it on my own,” Neil said. He turned back to Kevin, who was talking over some intricacies of racquet selection with one of the other Hornets, until Allison’s laugh grabbed his attention.

“What?” he asked her, flicking her a glance. She was grinning and Renee, on her other side, looked quietly amused.

“Nice of you to shoot her down so politely,” she said in her clumsy, horrible French. Neil blinked at her in puzzlement. “She was trying to flirt, idiot.”

Neil looked back to the girl and found her pointedly talking to the person next to her, her cheeks lightly flushed. “Maybe she should have been a bit more straightforward.”

“Yeah, she could have said, ‘Wesninski, I’m flirting with you’,” Allison replied, her eyebrows raised. “It’s alright. She’ll probably recover from being shot down that ruthlessly.”

Neil gave her an unimpressed look. “I doubt she’s that delicate. Stop speaking another language in front of your date, Reynolds, it’s rude.”

Allison smirked at him before turning back to Renee. Neil had offered to be her date this time as well, but as Andrew was unavailable to be Renee’s like he usually was, the girls had decided to come together instead. Neil supposed that made Kevin his date, though he wasn’t sure it was a great trade-off.

Kevin had given up on conversation again, and was instead trying to look to the Ravens’ table without it being noticeable. Neil pinched him when he caught him at it, refusing to give them any of his attention right now while they could be eating instead.

It was a surprisingly enjoyable meal compared with their last banquet, all teams cheerfully rowdy. The court walls made things echo, which meant the entire space was a bustle of bright voices and laughter.

Like last time, they cleared the tables away to make space for a dance floor and turned the music up as soon as the meal was done. Aaron and Katelyn disappeared into the crowd of dancers, with Nicky and his date close on their heels. Renee and Allison stayed with Neil and Kevin for a little while at the edge of the crowd before the lure of dancing became too great and they peeled off to join Dan and Matt. They were careful not to go deep enough into the crowd for Neil to lose sight of them.

Kevin grabbed himself a cup of punch and stuck close to the wall, less interested than usual in socialising. Neil, a bottle of water in hand, stayed by his side and watched the teams mingling.

Riko was predictable thanks to his love of that ridiculous synchronicity he required of the Ravens. In their blacks and pairs, the team was easy to track through the crowd. Neil followed the back of Riko’s head until Riko got tired of stalling and looked for them at last. As soon as he turned he looked straight into Neil’s eyes.

The expression on Riko’s face as he cut across the room sent anticipation thrilling through Neil. Jean, a half step behind him like always, had schooled his down to nothing except for a tiny twist of his lips that warned Neil to keep his mouth shut.

As the pair of them stopped close enough to speak, Neil said in French, “Kevin, go to Dan and Matt.” Kevin didn’t need to hear any of Riko’s vitriol, and he was the prize rather than the target this time.

“Nathaniel. You know I don’t like to hear you using that language,” Riko said in rapid-fire Japanese.

Neil stared back, unmoved, his blood boiling in his veins. He had to breathe, to keep control, but a too-large part of him didn’t want to. He looked Riko dead in the eye as he said to Kevin again in French, “Go to Dan right now.”

This time, Kevin did go. Jean trailed him with one last whip-quick look at Neil, leaving the two of them toe-to-toe and alone.

“I don’t have to care about what you like anymore. Remember?” Neil said, changing to Japanese now they were alone in the crowd.

“You should take that expression off of your face before I do it for you,” Riko recommended. Neil was smiling the razorblade grin he’d inherited from his father’s line, all teeth, but he let it grow rather than smoothing it off of his face. Riko put a hand to Neil’s cheek, waiting for him to flinch: Neil didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Your rebellion was amusing at first, but I’ve grown tired of it now,” he said, pressing his thumb hard enough into Neil’s tattoo to bruise. “Your semester at Palmetto is over. You will return to the Nest with us tomorrow and retake your position on the Raven roster for the spring season. If you are lucky you might even get a chance to play before the year is over.”

“What a generous offer,” Neil murmured. “Am I meant to be grateful?”

Riko conveniently wasn’t mentioning the weeks that Neil would spend black and blue and bleeding, but Neil could read it from his face. “You certainly should be. The Master wasn’t inclined to give you a second chance, but I talked him into it. And you won’t like the alternatives.”

Neil would happily die before he went back, so he knew Riko couldn’t mean that. “Like what?”

“Your sympathies have always cost you – Jean, Kevin, that horrible little goalkeeper,” Riko replied. “All of the Fox line, for that matter. Ah, I see it in your face.”

Neil finally ripped Riko’s hand away from him. His smile was long gone. “ _Like what?_ ”

“They’re terribly vulnerable. Not surprising, for a bunch of unwanted rejects,” Riko said. “Minyard, in particular. I heard they locked him up. Something about his brother not being able to decide whether he wanted to fuck him or kill him?”

“Don’t.” He’d expected it, but he still wanted to cover his ears so he didn’t have to hear it.

“Oakland lawyers are cheap. Not as cheap as the cops, though,” Riko noted. “You think I didn’t notice your visitor from California? He was never going to have a price tag, but the others…well. And it’s pretty easy you find a man who is just desperate to do what you require, even without the incentive of a paid-for pardon.”

Neil’s face was twisting into a snarl. “Thanks for the admission of guilt, you fuck.”

“As if that’s going to help you, Nathaniel. I bought one of the doctors at Easthaven, too.” His delighted expression made Neil want to retch. “So unless you want his experience with therapy to really turn sour, I suggest you sign your new contract and come home.”

“That’s not my home.” Neil’s head was spinning. “ _I won’t go back_.”

Riko just smiled, as though resistance was futile. He knew Neil too well – he knew just what to say to make him fold.

“I won’t,” Neil repeated. He would be signing his own death certificate, and Jean’s. If he went back, neither of them would be alive to see graduation. Neil knew desperation, and he knew exactly how long he could keep going in Riko’s sadistic hands. He’d kill himself first. Riko’s expression said he didn’t much care either way whose hand Neil died by.

“So you did all that to protect him and now you’ll leave him for dead. Seems strange.”

“You wouldn’t.” Torture disguised as therapy was one thing, but murder was another entirely inside of a hospital. Riko’s reach surely couldn’t extend far enough to cover that up.

“It’s easy to kill a man. But I suppose you would know that, wouldn’t you?”

That was a trigger, the gun to Neil’s heart, and Riko had just pulled it.

“You’re right,” Neil said, and then hit Riko so hard he staggered.

Riko’s advantage had always been his size and the fact that he was never without a second at his back. Right now the others were a decent distance away, and Neil had been sparring with Renee once a week for months now.

That meant – as Neil followed up with a cross, and went down with Riko, knee on his chest and hand in his hair wrenching his head back – he knew that he would come out on top.

Hands – multiple pairs – grabbed him and ripped him away before he could really do any damage, and the space between the two of them was abruptly full of bodies. Riko hadn’t even really landed a hit on Neil, and his expression said that he’d realised that as he was pulled to his feet. Neil’s laser focus made it all but impossible to look away from his furious face as he struggled against the people holding him.

“What the hell is going on here?” That authoritative voice broke through the haze a little – when Neil managed to drag his eyes from the blood on Riko’s chin, he found himself looking into the face of Breckenridge’s coach. Over his shoulder, Dan was frantically fighting her way through the crush with Wymack at her back. That was lucky: Neil was out of words to explain even if he wanted to.

He was delivered into Dan’s hands as the coaches argued over him, using words like ‘crazy’ and ‘unprovoked’. No wonder Andrew hated people, considering this was how he was spoken about all the time. Neil clutched at Dan’s wrist with a hold that was barely shy of bruising, just like her returning grip was.

“If it was Jeremy Knox he was fighting with, I might believe that. As it stands,” Neil heard Wymack say, “Moriyama has antagonised my players before.”

“Be that as it may-” someone else blustered. Tetsuji appeared next to Riko, who was standing unmolested. The crowd was already thinning around them, so Neil saw clearly Riko smile at something his uncle said to him.

They thought that they had won. They thought that Neil would be travelling on one of the Raven buses tomorrow, his freedom signed away to protect the Foxes – to protect Andrew, in particular.

Neil had said to Betsy; _if you think I would make a martyr of myself, you’re wrong._

When he turned to find Kevin amongst the remaining crowd, he saw that the other striker was holding a thick A4 envelope to his chest. Neil’s brand new Edgar Allen contract.

Neil pulled it out of Kevin’s hands and threw it onto the floor. His aim, as usual, was perfect: it skidded across the wood and bumped to a stop against the shiny toes of Tetsuji’s shoes.

Everyone in the immediate vicinity went silent. They didn’t know Tetsuji like Ravens did, but they knew he wasn’t to be treated with that kind of blatant disrespect.

“You can keep that,” Neil said in Japanese. His tone must have carried through, because Wymack grabbed him by the upper arm. “I don’t belong to you.”

Despite everything, Riko smiled. “You’ve never belonged to yourself your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I am going to destroy you,” Neil said, a flat but earnest vow. “I’m going to make sure everyone you have ever cared about hates you, and then I’m going to kill you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to keep that promise, runner,” Riko replied in English before his uncle finally ushered him away.

Neil could feel himself shaking in Wymack’s grip, but he couldn’t stop. Riko had broken Neil’s lifelong control from miles away when Neil had killed a man in Columbia, and he didn’t even realise it.

But he was about to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Neil makes some important phone calls.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a warning for (pretty vague) discussion of abuse in a psychiatric facility in this chapter.

Wymack half-carried Neil across the court and out the home-side door, Foxes trailing behind him. He released the firm grip he’d kept on Neil’s arm only when Neil was on his ass on the bench. It only gave the illusion of privacy – they were out of earshot through the plexiglass wall, but certainly not out of sight from the curious faces in the inner court.

“I tried,” Neil said. His voice sounded like it was coming from under water.

Wymack dropped to one knee in front of him, the bulk of his body blocking Neil’s view of the court. “You tried what?”

“Not to get into a fight.”

Wymack huffed out a laugh. “Jesus, kid. As if I didn’t see that one coming. You’d think I hadn’t ever met you.”

“He bought Drake.” If he hadn’t had everyone’s full attention before, he certainly did now. “Said he’d get the charges against him dropped if he made a visit to Columbia.”

Aaron spat out a curse. There was the distinct sound of someone’s fist hitting the wood of the bench. Dan said, “ _What?_ ”

“The reporters weren’t the only ones who figured that Kevin was staying because of Andrew,” Neil said, his tone dry even as his stomach writhed. “Riko wants to cut every pillar out from underneath him. Andrew was the first.”

“And you’re next,” Wymack said. It wasn’t a question.

Neil let his eyes slide off Wymack’s face to Kevin and said in French, “Did Jean tell you what was in the envelope?”

“He said they are taking you back,” Kevin replied, like his lips were numb.

“You’re not going back,” Allison interrupted in English, her voice sharp. Neil cursed silently – he’d forgotten for a moment that she could speak French.

“Going back where?” Matt asked, and then, “No. _No_ , you can’t be serious.”

“I’m not going,” Neil interrupted, too late to stop the fear creeping over the faces of his teammates. “I told them that already. Right before I threw Tetsuji’s contract on the floor.”

“Hell no, you aren’t. You signed a five-year contract with this team,” Wymack said. It was such a certain statement that Neil laughed, the sound rough in his throat – they all knew how flimsy a contract could be.  

“I’m never going back,” he said. His will was stronger than any signed piece of paper. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Aaron snarled. His voice sounded poisonous – he meant it.

“Don’t bother,” Neil said. “Riko doesn’t care about your death threats. If you want to rattle him, you have to do it on the court come spring championships. That’s the only thing he cares about.”

“Then _we_ will,” Matt said, his gaze fixed on Neil.

Neil nodded. It was a promise he intended to keep, if he let Riko get that far. The satisfaction of winning that way would be absolute, but Neil would act faster than that if his hand were forced.

It was four months until finals. One way or another, Neil would be keeping his promises.

They descended into quiet, each looking from face to face amongst their teammates while the music continued to pour from the speakers overhead. It was almost farcical, Neil thought, that they were here pretending to be regular college students. He felt distinctly like a wolf amongst sheep.

“Let’s go, before I have to murder the next person I see in black and red,” Dan said at last. She looked brutally tired. “We’re done here.”

The drive back was long and quiet. Neil’s seat at the back of the bus guaranteed him privacy to stretch his aching hands and think through his predicament. By the time he climbed into his bed in the Tower, his path forwards was – not clear; that was impossible. But it was certainly walkable, if Neil dared.

_You can’t do this on your own_. Betsy was right. It was just a case of Neil asking the right people.

 

* * *

 

Neil woke early, despite the late night and his dreamless sleep. He was still exhausted, the kind of tired that weighed heavily in his bones. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body and to remember the events of last night.

The anger was nearly as effective at jump-starting him as Matt’s alarm, which started going off ten seconds later. Matt groaned as he groped around to shut it up and then slumped back down like he wanted to go back to sleep immediately, but his eyes were open when Neil looked over the edge of his bunk.

“Jesus,” he said. “I was hoping that was all a terrible nightmare. Three hours of sleep isn’t enough to deal with this shit.”

“Sorry,” Neil said, extricating himself from his blankets and clambering down the ladder.

Matt sat bolt upright. “I didn’t mean it was _your_ fault.”

He sounded so scandalised by the idea that Neil couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s fine, Matt. I think we can all pretty safely say that it was at least a little my fault.”

Matt snorted. “Any of us would have gone after him, considering. Maybe not _quite_ as dramatically as you…”

Neil had to agree with that. His knuckles were purple this morning. “I’m not that good at controlling my temper.”

“Yeah, we noticed that you’re a protective little shit a while ago.” Matt smiled. “Are you going for a run?”

“I need to talk to Kevin,” he explained, grabbing his keys off the dresser.

“Yeah, he’s definitely going to still be asleep.”

“I lived with him for five years. I know exactly how to wake him up,” Neil replied. “He’ll only bruise a little bit.”

Matt’s laugh followed him all the way out of the suite.

It took five minutes of knocking to wake the cousins; long enough Neil wished he’d just picked the lock instead. Aaron wrenched the door open like he wanted to kill whoever it was on the other side; an expression that didn’t abate when he realised that it was Neil.

“I have to speak to Kevin,” Neil said. “Let me in.”

Aaron turned away wordlessly but left the door open, which was as good as an invitation. Neil shut it behind him and followed him through to the bedroom where Aaron collapsed facedown back on his bed.

“Neil?” Nicky asked blurrily, sticking his extremely rumpled head out from under his duvet. Neil waved him off on the way to Kevin’s bed.

There was no point being nice about it – Neil didn’t have all day. He grabbed Kevin’s foot where it stuck out from under the edge of his blankets, and pulled.

Kevin hit the floor with a yell and a thump that probably rattled the lights on the floor below them. Aaron and Nicky both came entirely awake with their own squawks. Neil, who’d employed this particular trick more than once before, was already out of the way of Kevin’s flailing limbs. He paused when he realised it was Neil standing over him.

“Get up,” Neil said, leaving no room for argument. He turned on his heel and returned to the lounge. By the time he put a pot of coffee on, Kevin had dragged himself in. He hadn’t bothered to change, but his eyes were awake and wary.

“I know Riko threatened one of the others last night. You looked like you considered signing, for a second,” he said quietly. “Who was it? Jean? Matt? Allison?”

“Andrew. He said he bought one of the Easthaven psychiatrists, and that he’ll hurt him if I don’t go.”

“And you said no?” Kevin looked like he couldn’t figure out which option was worse: Neil staying at Andrew’s expense, or Neil returning to Castle Evermore. He also looked surprised that Neil hadn’t thrown himself at Riko and Tetsuji’s feet.

“I won’t go back. I promised myself that.” When he’d dragged himself, bleeding and broken, out of the door of the Nest, he’d sworn that he would only return in colours other than black and red.

“We can’t just…he’s there _because of us_.”

“He knew the risks. I warned him months ago.” Neil could remember their conversation in Columbia with crystal clarity, despite the cracker dust Andrew had dosed him with. Andrew hadn’t cared then. Neil didn’t know how he felt about it now, but he doubted he was regretful. That didn’t fit the Andrew Neil had come to know.

“So you’ll – just do nothing?” Kevin was so white Neil was concerned he might faint.

“Oh, no. I never said that.” The corners of Neil’s mouth were quirking into a hard smirk, but he covered that with a hand. It didn’t do to frighten Kevin more than he already was.

“But what _can_ you do?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” Neil replied. “You just need to promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut and _stay_.”

He looked distinctly like he was about to book himself on the next flight back to West Virginia. “He’s not done. He won’t be as long as I’m still playing.”

“He won’t be done until you’re dead, or he is,” Neil corrected. “If he gets to take me out on the way to you, then all the better. But give me some credit, Day. You know better than to think I’ll make it easy for him.”

“This isn’t the Nest. It’s nowhere near the same playing field.”

“You’re right. In his castle, he’s king. Out here, neither of us is. That’s going to work in my favour.”

Kevin’s gaze sharpened. “What are you planning?”

“That’s my problem,” Neil repeated. “The team, winning – that’s yours. You worry about them, and I’ll worry about us.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Neil shrugged. “We’ll see.”

He met Kevin’s eyes and let him read what he liked off of Neil’s face. Kevin was still pale, but whatever he found seemed to start rebuilding his spine. That was good – if this was going to work, then he was going to need to learn to stand on his own once and for all.

“You need to tell Coach that he’s your father, too,” Neil said.

“You said yourself that Riko is trying cut me off from the people I…” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘people I care about’, as though those words alone would summon Riko.

“If you think you’re protecting him now by holding back, you’re wrong. He’s in danger either way,” Neil replied. “Your reservations were understandable while you were still under their control. Now you are just making things harder on yourself.”

“I…”

“If he’s really going to be a target, then he deserves to know why, don’t you think?” Neil’s voice was silky, but completely without gentleness.

Kevin was out of arguments. Neil, whose father was a mass-murdering gangster, had no sympathy for his desire to avoid – whatever it was he was trying to avoid by not telling Wymack. Neil wasn’t sure if it was drama, or rejection. The first was unavoidable, but Wymack was a good man. He’d already taken in a pair of damaged, impossible Ravens out of nothing but the goodness of his heart. There was no chance he’d turn away his own son as far as Neil could see.

“I’m feeling generous, so you get until we get back from New York to summon up the courage,” Neil continued. “Otherwise I’m taking that letter back and fucking mailing it to him.”

Kevin slammed the door behind Neil when he stepped into the hallway, but that didn’t wipe the smirk off of Neil’s face. He might spend the week slinking around Neil like a wounded dog, but Kevin would thank him at some point for the push.

Matt was collapsed across the couch when Neil made it back into their suite, his bags slumped at his feet.

“You nearly ready to go?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question – it was obvious that Neil hadn’t spared a single thought for the fact that they were meant to fly to New York in a few hours. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now. I mean, you can, it’s fine, but – you can’t have a good reason to go anywhere else, right?”

“I’m not going to back out,” Neil reassured him. “I just need to make a few phone calls. You mind?”

“The room’s all yours. Unlike you, I’ve already packed, so I may as well go hassle the girls for a while,” Matt said with a shrug. “You’re okay, yeah? Your phone calls aren’t going to get you in any more trouble?”

“Not in the immediate future.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for,” Matt sighed. “Find me when you’re done. I’ll help you pack.”

Neil nodded an affirmative, and Matt left him alone with his phone burning a hole in his pocket. Neil waited until the door closed and the lock clicked shut to make his way into the bathroom.

He locked that door, too. It really wouldn’t be do for him to be overheard.

He’d saved the first number in his phone when he came back from Columbia after Drake, but he hadn’t used it till now. His hands were a little damp as it rang.

“This is the Oakland Police Department, how may I direct your call?”       

“Hello, ma’am,” Neil said. “I’m hoping to speak to Officer Phil Higgins?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Neil Minyard from SFO, we have an item he reported as missing to our lost and found,” Neil replied. It wasn’t a great lie, but it would be enough to catch Higgins’ attention.

“Hold on, I’ll put you through,” she said, and then her voice was replaced by hold music.

Thirty seconds later, the line clicked and cut off Garth Brooks mid-sentence. “I didn’t realise that you two were quite that close.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Funny. Are you somewhere private?”

“I’m at my desk and it’s a madhouse in here, so close enough.”

“Close enough isn’t good enough, so watch what you say.”

“Neil, what’s this about? Is Andrew alright?”

“Andrew’s fine,” Neil said, because he would be. “You’ve got your own problems to deal with. Apparently Oakland cops are cheap.”

“I’m not,” Higgins replied quietly, which meant he knew. “Where’d you hear that?”

“From the source.”

Neil heard him draw in a sharp breath. “One of those big players we were talking about, I guess.”

“I’m doing what I can on this end, but I hope you’re doing the same,” Neil said.

“Is that permission for me to start looking into all of this properly?”

“There will be a money trail, if you search hard enough. From Drake’s accounts, too,” Neil said, which meant _yes_. “He’s getting sloppy, and not everyone will be happy about it. That might work in your favour.”

“In terms of me finding him?”

“In terms of you surviving finding him,” Neil replied.

“Comforting,” Higgins joked. “It might take a while. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Don’t get murdered,” Neil said. He wasn’t sure if Andrew would be pissed or not, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“You neither,” Higgins replied, and then hung up.

Neil had to put his phone down for a second. He gripped the edge of the vanity and leaned down, letting his head hang while he counted breaths. It was just adrenaline, electrifying his heart.

He looked up and met his own gaze in the mirror. The man who looked back at him was all Nathan, the same hair and eyes and nose. The only hint of his mother was the stubborn set of his lips and the narrower lines of his jaw. It was just enough that Neil could look at himself without wincing.

His expression was exactly what he felt: resigned, resolute. There was no room for fear.

He still wore Riko’s brand on his cheek. It looked starkly black against the pallor of his skin under the fluorescents.

_I don’t think that you’re going to be able to keep that promise, runner._

Neil picked up his phone again, dialling a number that he knew by heart but had never used before. The voice at the other end was familiar, a little – his mother’s accent had been the same.

“Hello, Uncle Stuart,” he said, “I’m hoping you can do me a favour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! Love you guys <3
> 
> Next: Andrew returns and finds things not quite as he thought he left them.


	27. Chapter 27

Andrew Minyard was, despite everyone’s best efforts, still alive.

From that came the satisfaction of being the thorn in the side – the kind too deep under the skin to remove, in muscle and infected.

The entire pack of them had showed up to pick him up. Andrew looked from face to face once through – his twin, his cousin, and the matched pair of Ravens side-by-side – and then turned on his heel and left.

He wasn’t surprised that Aaron was the first for follow, nor that Nicky was the last. They were the ones who knew him best, after all.

To get out, they had to walk past a picture of the late Doctor Proust in the waiting room, with its donation box for his wife and children. _How sweet._ Andrew let his eyes pass over it.

He’d been allowed outside at various points over the last few weeks, but the air tasted different to how it had then. He’d bought a bunch of clothes on the way to be committed; all black, all seven weeks old, all tainted. He upended the lot into the trash, zipped up his bag, and turned to find the car.

Nicky was waving at him. When Andrew got close enough, he called, “Hurry up! I’m creeped out being here. Some dude got murdered right here in this parking lot, it was all over the news, and they still haven’t found who did it.”

Aaron scoffed. “It wasn’t in broad daylight, Nicky-”

Neil threw Andrew his key ring wordlessly before he folded himself into the car. Kevin wasn’t quite so quick to disappear – he parked himself in front of Andrew for inspection.

Kevin looked exactly the same, down to the wary eyes. Andrew had been out ten minutes and he was sick of the expectation on Kevin’s face. He waved him to the other side of the car and got behind the steering wheel himself.

Neil had to have driven out here. Andrew didn’t need to adjust the seat. The car was intimately familiar, smelling of leather and the very faintest touch of cigarette smoke. The steering wheel under his hands represented the same thing it always had – speed, danger, and a tease of oblivion somewhere deep in his chest where he’d pressed it down.

Control felt like steel, like bone, like nearly three hundred brake horsepower at his fingertips. Andrew, who had spent years in chains, reached out and took it the same way he had every day since he’d sweated out the last of the drugs.

He turned the key in the ignition, flicked the radio on to interrupt Nicky before he could start, and took them back to PSU.

           

* * *

 

Fox Tower looked the same as it had when Andrew last saw it weeks ago. He parked towards the back of the lot the same way he always did.

As soon as he was stationary, every door on the car but his flew open. Andrew cut the engine and climbed out more slowly, aware that all of the others had their eyes firmly on him. Their careful evaluation was awfully boring.

“You can stay,” Andrew said, pointing at Nicky. “The rest, go.”

“No,” Aaron interjected, punctuating his statement by slamming his door.

Andrew tilted his head. “No?”

The look Aaron shot him was sharp and impatient. “Do you want to listen to fifteen minutes of Nicky regaling you about the shopping in New York, or do you actually want to hear what you missed?”

Nicky made a sputtering noise which cut off so abruptly that someone had to be responsible for it. When Andrew looked, Neil was herding both him and Kevin away.

“How thoughtful,” he said, turning back to Aaron. “Get on with it, then.”

Aaron did exactly as requested, giving Andrew a terse rundown of the latest news, from the Fox game against JD to Thanksgiving to the Christmas banquet, and then their trip to NYC.

“What else,” Andrew prompted once Aaron was done with the bare bones. Aaron usually cut straight to the point.

“Wesninski is getting himself in trouble,” he said, as blunt as ever. “He spent half the break on the phone yapping in Japanese whenever Kevin wasn’t around. Nicky is happy to pretend that doesn’t mean anything, but considering who he learned the language from, I doubt that.”

“And you care, why?”

The look Aaron gave him was incredulous. “Because he and Day have caused nothing except mayhem for all of us since they arrived here.”

“So this is a self-centred concern, then.” _Typical_.

“If it’s self-centred to want to stay alive, then yeah, sure,” Aaron replied. “You need to break off whatever deal you have with him before he gets all of us killed trying to one-up Riko.”

“Do I?”

Andrew’s tone was bland, but Aaron knew him well enough that he flicked him a cautious glance. Not well enough to shut his mouth, though.

“Is your death wish so strong you’d keep them here, putting the rest of us in danger? Is cutting too slow a form of suicide these days?”

In another life, Andrew might have smiled: he’d been waiting for that since Aaron had put his hand where he shouldn’t have in Luther Hemmick’s house.

He had crashed through the floor of his life into nothingness long before he’d ever heard the name ‘Minyard’, had flayed half of his skin off in an attempt to remind himself how to feel _something_ before he’d ever read the letter from a boy who claimed to be his brother.

That wasn’t a death wish, and nor was this. He didn’t expect Aaron to know that, but he didn’t really intend to explain, either. “You’ve seen me use a knife. Do you think that I would be inefficient enough to still be alive if I really meant to kill myself?”

“How can you pretend it’s that black and white?”

“I’m not pretending anything.” Either you were dead, or you were at one of the various stages of dying. Andrew had gone through a few of those stages, but as long as he was still bleeding, he wasn’t dead yet. “And there’s no deal to break. He did that months ago.”

“Then why is he still here?”

“Because he is a Fox.”

“So you’ll break our deal for _him_?”

 _Not just typical. Predictable, too._ “Is it really breaking our deal, if you take into account all those study dates with that cheerleader in the library?”

Aaron went still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know how I feel about liars. Just like you know what I’ll do to her if you don’t stay away.” They’d been through this one before: Aaron was a slow learner.

“You don’t care about her. Break our deal and leave me the fuck alone.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He was speaking through gritted teeth, by the sound.

“Because you were too stupid to understand what you were asking for when you agreed to it, and you still are now.” If Aaron had accepted Andrew’s promise thinking that Andrew wouldn’t keep it, then he would break it thinking the opposite. It didn’t work like that. _Andrew_ didn’t work like that.

“You’re going to have to, sooner or later,” Aaron said, his tone implying that he was going to be looking for a way to make it sooner. “You can’t keep me on a leash forever.”

“You leashed yourself,” Andrew dismissed. “Don’t worry. Three and a half more years and you’ll be a free man.”

For some reason, Aaron didn’t take that as his cue to leave. If he didn’t quit grinding his teeth like that he was going to have a problem, though.

“Dobson said that you signed off on me sitting in on your sessions with her,” he said.

Andrew had done that – more than a year ago, when he had first started to see Betsy. He didn’t bother to nod.

“I’m going to,” Aaron said, with the surety of someone who had no idea of what he was getting himself into. If he thought this was the way around Andrew, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

Aaron took his silence as agreement, turned on his heel, and left.

           

* * *

 

The access door at his back opened and closed, and a head of auburn hair appeared in the corner of his vision. Andrew didn’t have his coat on, and it was too fucking cold away from the shelter of the doorway. Neil didn’t venture closer to the edge of the roof, despite being better dressed for the outdoors, standing just so Andrew didn’t have to turn his head to look him over.

“You’re still here,” Andrew said.

“Did you think I’d be gone when you came back?”

The last time Andrew saw Neil, he had been covered in blood, and his clever pale eyes had been frozen solid. He also had the number 3 tattooed on his cheek, a gift courtesy of Riko Moriyama. With the blood washed off, Neil Wesninski was an entirely different creature. He still looked at Andrew like he was desperate to get a rise out of him, though.

Andrew blew out smoke, breaking free of their locked stare. Neil had no idea what he was asking for.

He had on his face now the unmistakeable silhouette of a key.

“That’s new,” Andrew said.

“I got tired of my numbers not matching,” Neil replied, gesturing over his shoulder where he wore a ‘10’ on his uniform. “I tried to convince Kevin to do the same, but he’s not quite there yet.”

“All this time and you are still so eager to push,” Andrew remarked, putting his finger up to the tattoo but pausing shy of touching it. Neil watched him lazily, tilting his head so Andrew could see it better.

“You know it’s the only way I know how to be,” he replied.

“Aaron says that you’ve been quiet. I find that difficult to believe, considering how angry he is with you.”

“Oh, he has been for about…nine weeks, now. Turns out that the truth hurts.” Neil shrugged.

“I suppose you’re the reason behind his new interest in the field of psychiatry.”

“I made a suggestion. Does that mean he followed through?”

“You sound surprised.”

“You didn’t hear what he said when I brought it up.”

“Your mission to make friends is no less tiring now than it was before.”

“That isn’t what I’m trying to do.” He snorted. Andrew knew that, anyway. Neil wasn’t the kind who cared for friendship, not when he could have blind, obsessive loyalty instead. “What’s the point in keeping a death grip on him if you aren’t going to try and fix things between you? You can consider if a repayment for trying to make me see Betsy in the first place, if you like. Hey, it might work.”

“I don’t care.”

“I find that interesting.” Neil meant _I find_ you _interesting_. Dangerously, the feeling was mutual.

Andrew hadn’t been expecting this. He didn’t like surprises. He flicked the last of his cigarette away, watching the wind whip it across the roof and over the edge.

“Aaron also said that you and Riko haven’t patched up your relationship much. What did he say to earn a punch in the face?”

“He told me he was going to take me back to Evermore,” Neil replied. “But you already know that. You want to know what he threatened me with to try and make me cave. But I broke our deal months ago, so that isn’t your problem.”

Andrew looked back at him for a long moment – long enough that Neil shrugged and smiled.

“It isn’t,” said Andrew, the words heavy on his tongue. “Are you going say that I owe you another favour?”

“What – for your life, with Drake?” Neil asked. “Wasn’t that what you asked, in the first place?”

“That wasn’t what I asked for.” Neil knew that – he was making a point.

“When I agreed, it wasn’t for protecting four out of five of us. If you think that was the case, then maybe you misjudged me.”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I need your protection.”

Neil’s gaze was piercing. He opened his mouth to speak, but Andrew’s hand snapped out to cover it before he could start. The half-inch gap between Neil’s lips and his palm felt like nothing with his warm breath blowing against it.

Neil waited until Andrew pulled back to go on. “Speaking of favours: I need you to do one for me. Seeing as you owe me one.”

He held out a square of A4 paper folded in four pinched between his index and middle finger. “Keep this for me?”

Andrew looked at it. The name written on it wasn’t his. “That doesn’t look like it’s for me.”

Neil smiled. “It’s not. This is just for safekeeping. If it’s needed, the man whose name is on it will be the one calling you.”

“You gave him my number?”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t have needed me to anyway. He isn’t that kind of man.”

Andrew took it finally and put it in his pocket. “What kind of man is he?”

“He’s my uncle,” Neil said. “Charming guy. You two would get on.”

Andrew ignored that. “Did you finally get tired of losing?”

“The stakes got too high,” Neil replied. “Besides, I was a Raven. We like to win.”

 _I’ll owe you one_. Andrew remembered writing the note to Neil more vividly than anything from that day, except maybe Aaron’s snarl. Those weren’t words that he thought he would willingly offer anyone, not even to someone who would have done as he asked for nothing.

“As long as you’re satisfied I kept up my end of the deal, then I guess we’re square,” said the man who could have asked for anything and put a piece of paper into Andrew’s hands instead. “Except that you still have my keys, and I still have your knives.”

Andrew pulled the key ring out of his pocket and weighed it in his hand. Between the keys to the court, the one for his room, and the key to the house in Columbia, Neil was building up quite a collection.

He threw them over the edge of the roof, watching Neil follow the arc of their flight until they hit the pavement four stories down. “Not anymore, I don’t.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitched upwards, half frustration and half amusement. “If someone tries to pick those up before I get down there, I expect you to stop them.”

He reached up under his left sleeve and pulled dark cloth from underneath, which he dropped, skin-warm, into Andrew’s hand. The other he extracted from his pocket and passed over.

“Thanks for the loan,” he said, throwing Andrew a salute before he left.

Andrew balanced the familiar weight of the paired knives in his palms. _Interesting. Dangerous._ Maybe he was more interested in flirting with self-destruction than he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! xx
> 
> Next: Neil really doesn't have his priorities in order.


	28. Chapter 28

Neil didn’t have a lot of experience at playing the long game, but he’d spoken the truth to Andrew up on the roof: the stakes were too high for him to lose now.

Not if he wanted to survive. Lately, he found that he very much did.

It was good to be back amongst the rest of the Foxes – he’d missed the girls and the Tower. Having the monsters back together threatened to split the team back down the middle again, but Neil would see to that problem. More pressing was the issue of Andrew and Aaron, whose fragile détente had turned into a cold war over the course of their conversation on Tuesday.

Katelyn had taken to joining them for dinner every night recently, so her sudden disappearance meant that either she and Aaron had broken up, or they’d reverted to secrecy. Neil was unsure which was more likely, or which was stupider.

Neil’s phone calls over the break hadn’t all been in Japanese or in riddles; he’d made one to Betsy before he implanted the idea of shared sessions in Aaron’s brain. Aaron had nearly ripped Neil’s head off at the suggestion, so it was a genuine surprise that Aaron had actually brought it up with Andrew.

It would work. It had to, because Neil didn’t have a Plan B for that particular issue.

Allison texted him on Wednesday evening with a summons to their suite. Renee was the one to answer the door, her smile generous. They were lined up on the couch like usual, so Neil took a spot on the floor.

“Did you enjoy your Christmas?” Dan asked, with the intensity she’d shown back when Neil first mentioned his lack of experience with the holiday.

“Yeah. Matt’s mom is really nice,” he said. “Did you?”

Her expression softened at the mention of Randy Boyd. “I knew she’d show you a proper Christmas. Yeah, it was really nice to see all the girls.”

Allison texted him almost as much as Nicky, so Neil knew exactly how her break had been, including the trip she made to visit Renee. He’d been strictly sworn to secrecy on that, though; the Foxes had put money on their defensive dealer and goalie. Allison wasn’t meant to know about it, and she took great pleasure out of the fact that she did.

Neil texted Renee too, though not often. Their relationship wasn’t the type for idle chitchat. He asked her, “Did you have a good break?”

She was the only one that Andrew had acknowledged at their team meeting this morning, though it was just a glance. The upperclassmen had looked a mixture of relieved and disappointed, but Neil could see promise in that.

He’d been so shut down during their talk on the roof that Neil hadn’t been able to resist needling him. It had earned him a four-storey run down to get his keys, but there was something in Andrew’s face when Neil put the armbands back into his hands that made it worth it.

“It was lovely,” she said. “It’s good to be back, though, don’t you think? I’m excited about the season.”

“Me too.” Listening to Wymack list off the first game dates of the championship this morning had been another distraction, one that made Neil’s blood sing in his veins. It seemed ridiculous that the mess of his personal life made him hungry to play again like he hadn’t been for a long time.

“I like this,” Renee said, touching her finger to her own face where he had his new tattoo. It hadn’t gone unnoticed at the meeting – even Wymack had given him an approving look.

“I don’t think Riko will, though,” Allison said, her mouth curving up.

Dan was frowning. “No, he won’t. Should we be worried about that?”

Neil felt his stomach sink a little at the implication – it should have been impossible to forget what his presence here cost the other Foxes, Allison especially. The reminders always felt like a blow.

“No,” he said, looking between the three of them. Dan’s concerned face contrasted with Allison’s unchanged smile and Renee’s fathomless calm. Neil would let Riko make more problems for the Foxes over his dead body. “Anyway, it’ll be the least of his problems when he has to play us in semis.”

That brash statement turned Dan’s frown to a grin. “You’re right about that.”

It turned out that they’d asked him over to chat. He got to hear in detail about Dan and Renee’s breaks, and Allison’s all over again. It was relaxing to be able to lie back on the cushion Allison threw down for him and listen to them. More so when Matt turned up and took the spot Renee relinquished to him, full of cheer and stories from New York.

Renee came down to lie on the floor next to Neil so the two of them could speak a little more privately. She’d recoloured her hair since he’d seen her last, the pastel shades brighter than he remembered. It hung down like a curtain around her jaw.

“Why a key?” she asked, her voice low enough that her question didn’t draw the attention of the other three.

Neil paused to think. The truth was too entangled with Andrew to not sound strange spoken aloud.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she clarified, leaning her chin on her palm.

“It’s fine,” he replied, and then shrugged. “I guess I need to be reminded sometimes I’m not caged anymore.”

She nodded slowly, hearing the sentiment behind his comment. She’d seen him react to being locked in before, after all.

“I like it,” she repeated.

When it got late enough he was yawning, Renee was the one who stood up to walk him to the door. It wasn’t until Neil turned to face her that he realised she had a slim box in one of her hands. She passed it over to him when he paused in the doorway.

Neil looked from the box to her, and then lifted the lid. It was a knife, looking rather incongruous nestled in a bed of tissue paper like an expensive watch.

He raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

Her smile grew. “You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to. It was Andrew’s idea, seeing as he took his back.”

He didn’t take it out in the middle of the hall where anyone could walk past, but he didn’t need to. It was a switchblade – the same kind as the one sitting in an evidence locker in Columbia. He could feel his mouth curving into a smile despite himself.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Neil.”

He looked up and met her eyes. Her dark gaze was direct, all traces of her smile gone. Neil was instantly reminded of their first proper encounter, a thrill of instinctual fear rippling over him before falling away.

She said, “I already told you that if you need anything, you can come to me. I want you to know that I meant _anything_.”

Renee was too smart to think that Neil would leave anything up to chance when it came to his enemies. Religion or not, she meant _anything_ ; murder included. It was humbling to see the promise in her face.

“I know,” he replied. “But I swear it isn’t going to come to that.”

 

* * *

 

While medicated, Andrew swung wildly between completely apathetic and maniacal in practice. After their reintroduction, Neil expected Andrew to be the former in their first post-break scrimmage on Thursday afternoon.

He was wrong. Part of Neil was pleased – the rest was too busy trying to avoid an injury to give it any more thought.

Every ball that made it into Andrew’s reach was fired straight back at the striker who’d thrown it. Kevin was sensible enough to back off when he saw the pattern, but Neil wasn’t so, even if it meant risking a sprained ankle or worse. It might have been force of habit by now, but his every instinct screamed at him not to back off.

Kevin and Neil had practiced every day on the local outdoor court in New York, to the point of drawing crowds, but they were the only ones who bothered. That meant that Aaron and Nicky were clumsy and slow by comparison, leaving gaps wide enough for Neil to easily slide past them to the goal. It increased his likelihood of injury exponentially considering the damage an Exy ball could do at close range, but it also gave Neil an opportunity to talk once he’d made his shot.

A goalkeeper’s racquet wasn’t designed to make catches, but Andrew was very good at stopping and redirecting the ball. Neil neatly deflected it away from his left ankle so that it rolled away across the floor towards Aaron.

“You know I’m fitter than you. You might be stubborn, but I can hold out longer,” he said. Andrew claimed he’d exercised in Easthaven, but Neil knew his conditioning would have suffered. He would blow out his arms long before Neil tired of dodging.

As he turned to jog back to his starting point, the ball collided with his shoulder armour so hard it felt as though he wasn’t wearing it. Aaron had passed it back to Andrew and given him a free shot on Neil. He doubted that was unintentional on either part. Rather than look back at them, he hooked up the ball and threw it down to Kevin.

Rather than run alongside Neil on restart like he usually did, Kevin moved to pass after only taking a few steps. He was apparently more attached to his uninjured legs than Neil. Neil grabbed the ball out of the air, though he had to pass to himself off the wall to avoid taking more than ten steps.

His speed carried him past Aaron and straight towards the goal. It wasn’t a matter of aiming – he already knew that Andrew would be wherever he threw. He pulled his racquet back and let the ball fly.

It only took a split second; Andrew, who was watching the ball with his racquet extended, failed to notice that Neil hadn’t stopped upon throwing.

He caught Andrew in a truly dirty check, hitting him low enough that he rolled over top of Neil’s back and crashed down onto the floor. He was fully armoured, and Neil’s grip on his jersey slowed Andrew’s descent enough to prevent an injury – Neil wasn’t _that_ stupid, and it was more care than Andrew had been affording him – but he was clearly winded enough that he didn’t get up.

The entire game screeched to a halt behind them, but none of the others dared come closer. Neil had been banking on that.

It was a decent approximation of Neil’s first time on the Foxes’ court, except that this time Neil wasn’t the one flat on his back on the court floor. He dropped to one knee near Andrew’s head, just out of reach if Andrew went for a quick grab.

“Do we have a problem?” he asked. “Because I was hoping that I hadn’t gone this long only to get an injury thanks to my own goalkeeper.”

“You’re – getting – boring,” Andrew huffed out.

That sounded like a diversion, not like the truth. “Are you sure about that?”

Andrew didn’t reply. After a moment, Neil asked, “Whatever issue you have with us, keep it off the court. We’re here to practice because we want to win, not so you can turn me black and purple because you got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.    

“I told you once to not make this,” he indicated the stadium at large with one hand, “the same now as it was with the Ravens.”

That had been months ago, when Neil had broken their promise with his refusal to put himself at Andrew’s dubious mercy. It drew Andrew’s attention back to him, sharp as cut glass. They both remembered what Neil had said after that; _you won’t like it if you do._

This wasn’t a threat, though. He changed tack, knowing that someone was going to interrupt them if he didn’t hurry up. “I’ll owe you one. If I don’t already, I guess.”

Neil meant the knife, which he’d stashed in his dresser for now. Andrew blinked slowly. “No.”

“Give us a chance,” Neil said. “You might not care much, but you’re here for a reason.”

Andrew was only quiet for a couple of seconds, but the intensity of his focus made it seem longer. “I hate you.”

That was as good as an agreement, as well as the absolute truth, but he waited for Andrew’s, “Yes.”

Neil offered him a hand. Andrew stared at it for an almost unending moment before he grasped Neil’s forearm and let Neil lever him to his feet.

“Ask me whatever you want,” Neil said. “Just keep it off of the court.”

He scooped up the ball on the way back to his spot, throwing it to Kevin. Neither of the backliners said anything, taking up their places like nothing had happened.

This time when he took his shot on goal, Andrew hammered it all the way back down the court.

That meant Neil had to run to get it, which he suspected would be a theme of scrimmage for a while when Andrew was in goal. He did it with a smile on his face.

By the time they finished for the day, he was grateful for the extra work he and Kevin had done in New York. As they filed off the court Wymack motioned him over, though he waited for the others to go out of earshot before he spoke.

“As far as tactics go, I wouldn’t recommend that one,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning on trying it in a game,” Neil replied. For one thing, it wouldn’t be a good look to foul his own goalkeeper. For another, he was hoping that it wouldn’t be necessary – Andrew liked to deny opposing teams much more than he did Neil and Kevin.

Wymack gave him a strange look. “Right. I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

The Foxes were long gone into the locker rooms, but Neil looked after them. “I think so.”

When he glanced back to their coach, Wymack was smirking. He clapped Neil across the shoulders with a broad hand. “You’re clueless, but well done for preventing any ankle sprains. That’d be hell to explain to Abby.”

He left a frowning Neil to carry in the last bucket of balls.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: Kevin hits his deadline.


	29. Chapter 29

Kevin Day wasn’t brave by nature, but he had good teachers.

Or, at least, effective ones. The Ravens had shown him better than anyone the cost of cowardice. The Foxes he’d been watching all these months were the ones who were showing him how to hold his ground. That didn’t begin and end with Neil, either: he was a catalyst, not an anchor.

That was Andrew, who’d offered Kevin protection for an anchor of his own. Sobriety on him looked different from what Kevin had expected, but it looked promising, too. Even if it included more bruises than Kevin imagined.

After practice on Friday afternoon, Kevin showered as slowly as Neil. They were going to Columbia later, but today was Kevin’s deadline. At least there was a flimsy promise of vodka tonight no matter what happened.

Neil emerged from the shower stall dressed. He perched on a bench with his phone out while Kevin threw on the rest of his clothes. The others would already be in the car by now – Kevin might be walking back to the Tower. He was tying his shoes when Neil finally spoke.

“Don’t make him wait.” His look was pointed. With that, he stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, and then left. Kevin could have followed him, but he had no doubt that Neil would ensure that he had to walk back if he did.

He picked up his own bag and headed out through the deserted lounge and the rooms beyond it. After so long the stadium layout was as familiar to him as the Nest. The orange was tacky, but he would take it over red and black any day.

There was a window into Wymack’s office through which Kevin could see him seated at his desk on the phone. He glanced up and caught sight of Kevin but motioned for him to wait. Kevin nodded and settled against the far wall.

He’d spent a while when he first came here looking for similarities between the two of them, but they were few and far between. Kevin had inherited his mother’s looks. It was more of a comfort than he’d ever admit, to see a flash of her in the mirror.

He missed her when he least expected it. It was a dull ache after so long, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sometimes sit heavy in his chest when he woke up in the morning, or when he looked out across the court at a screaming crowd which would never include her.

She’d been the one to put a racquet in his hands.

Kevin had no idea whether or not she’d loved Wymack – her letter to Tetsuji had been blunt and to the point about his parentage, but it had said nothing about her feelings on the matter. He must have been important to her, enough so she’d avoided telling him for the sake of his involvement in the sport they’d both loved.

He had a fair idea of how Wymack had felt about her, though. It was all very well to say that the Fox coach had a soft heart and loved to take in sob stories, but there was a list of reasons why he should have turned Kevin away. That list had only grown, starting with vandalism and ending with Seth and Andrew and Neil.

Wymack hadn’t looked at him and seen one of the best players in the game, or a troubled kid in need. He’d seen Kayleigh Day’s son, and fought for him because of it.

This would change all that: Kevin wouldn’t just be Kayleigh Day’s son anymore.

Wymack hung up and waved him into the office, so Kevin went. He’d spent plenty of time seated across the desk from Wymack as coach and player since he’d come here, but taking his usual spot now felt different.

“What’s up?” Wymack asked, leaning back in his chair. “Hopefully you aren’t here to complain about your teammates. Though God knows it must be bad if even you aren’t willing to say it to their faces.”

“They’re fine,” Kevin said. Andrew was still an unknown, but he’d settled into smashing each shot they made on goal as far away as he could after his spat with Neil with yesterday. Neil was playing out of his skin at the moment and the rest of the line was already tightening up after the break. If anything, it was Kevin who’d struggled today, his mind half on this conversation.

“They’re doing alright,” he continued, which had to be the most lukewarm summation of the Foxes’ performance he’d ever given. Both of them knew it: Wymack’s brow, which had been relaxed, furrowed as he frowned.

“What is it?”

Kevin opened his mouth, and abruptly realised that he had nothing to say. He forced himself to swallow, the click of his dry throat audible.

Wymack expression turned concerned; that was fair, considering the events of the last couple of months. It was amazing that he didn’t seem inclined to lay the blame on Kevin. He probably should have.

That thought didn’t help. Kevin stared at the desk instead, hard enough the grain started to warp and blur in his vision.

“Kevin, tell me what the problem here is. I can’t do anything to fix it until you tell me.”

_You’re my father_. At the heart of them they were simple words, but Kevin couldn’t force them out of his mouth.

He reached down to pull the letter out from where he had tucked it in the pocket of his bag. It dropped onto the desk between them. Wymack reached out and pulled it closer, unfolding it the same way Kevin had done more times than he liked to think about.

Then he glanced up and said, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to read this. It’s in Japanese.”

Kevin blinked, and then had to force down the inappropriate urge to laugh. That blew Neil’s threat to send it to Wymack out of the water completely. He wondered whether he could extract himself from this situation using that as an excuse, but he figured at this point Neil would stoop low enough to just tell Wymack himself if Kevin didn’t.

“It’s a letter from my mother to Tetsuji Moriyama,” he said instead. “Telling him that she was pregnant.”

Wymack looked at the page again like the language would resolve itself into something he could understand if he stared hard enough. “How long have you had this?”

“A couple of years.” Back then he’d been reluctant to even daydream about the possibility of there being a sanctuary out there for him with David Wymack. He’d known that it would have cost the coach his life if Kevin tried. “She tells him who my father is.”

Slowly, Wymack looked up to meet Kevin’s gaze. There was unwilling realisation creeping across his face, but there was a question there, too.

“It’s you,” Kevin finished, voice gone rough.

Wymack had a temper, but there was no trace of it in his expression. That might have been easier to face. He took his time straightening, one hand balanced by the letter on the desk.

“You didn’t think to mention this earlier?” he asked. His voice had lost its usual snark.

“It didn’t seem important,” Kevin said, before he thought about it. It sounded callous enough out of his mouth that he flinched, but Wymack looked unmoved. “I mean…I didn’t think it mattered.”

That wasn’t any better. Kevin was floundering – he had no understanding of how to tread delicately, how to be anything but blunt. He said, “I didn’t think you’d care.”

That at last got Wymack’s expression to shift, but not in a way that Kevin could identify. “So why now?”

The truth didn’t seem like something he would appreciate. Kevin shrugged, and then shook his head.

Wymack blew out his breath. “If you’re doing this because you think I’m going to follow through on all those threats to shred your contract-”

“That’s not why,” Kevin interrupted. “I didn’t think that. I don’t.”

He was more concerned about the opposite. That had always been his fear – Wymack couldn’t claim Kevin as his while Kevin belonged to someone else. No one could get close to Kevin without risk. He was poison, thanks to Riko’s dangerous obsession with him. One only had to look at Andrew to see that, or Neil and Jean.

Wymack seemed to realise he wasn’t going to get an answer to his question. He rubbed a hand over his face, which drew Kevin’s attention to the lines around his eyes. He joked sometimes about the Foxes prematurely aging him, but it was different to look at him and wonder if that was the truth.

“We’ll do a paternity test,” Wymack said, “To confirm it.”

“Okay.” Kevin’s voice was small. His entire body felt like it was shrinking. “Alright.”

He stood up, figuring that the conversation was done. He was halfway to the door when Wymack’s voice stopped him.

“Don’t forget this,” he said. When Kevin turned back, he was holding the letter out, refolded. When Kevin went to take it, Wymack held onto the other side – gently, not enough to damage it, but enough that Kevin paused.

“Kevin. It’s going to be alright,” he said.

He didn’t know that. No one did. Hearing him say it with calm confidence made Kevin feel worse.

For a moment, he hated his mother for befriending the second son of a crime family, for dragging the both of them into this twisted, inescapable world, and for shackling them there.

When Wymack let go, Kevin took the letter and his bag, and left.

He burst out of the stadium doors and thought, for a suspended moment, of running. The first thing to stop him was the knowledge that he couldn’t survive a week out there, between his famous face, his poor understanding of the real world outside of the court, and his liquid spine.

The second was Andrew’s car parked in the lot, with Andrew leaning up against it. The cherry of his cigarette was the only part of him that wasn’t shadow.

Kevin paused in the glow of the security light, his heart dead in his chest. There was no anxiety left in him, just the clutching emptiness of handing over a secret he’d held onto for too long. It should have been purifying. It was frightening, instead.

“Hurry up, Day,” Andrew said. His voice was low and calm, no trace of impatience despite his words.

If anyone knew what nothingness felt like, it was Andrew. That was enough to make Kevin move.

He climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him. Andrew smoked the last of his cigarette, which gave Kevin a moment to just – breathe. In and out, as deep as he could.

“Don’t hyperventilate,” Andrew recommended as he got behind the wheel.

Kevin paused, cleared his throat. “Did Neil send you?”

Andrew edged him a flat look as he started the car. “He doesn’t send me anywhere.”

“Did he tell you?” Kevin pushed.

“No,” Andrew answered, putting the car into gear. Kevin subsided, sinking into silence, letting him take them back to the Tower. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Andrew to know right now: it wasn’t as though he would care.

It didn’t matter. None of this did. Neil was right – this secret hadn’t been protecting anyone.

The vodka that Eden’s Twilight had to offer was sounding good right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Next: Neil continues to be oblivious in Columbia.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for some discussion of sexual assault!

Neil wasn’t sure how he ended up going to Columbia with the monsters. No one had protested his presence in earshot of him. If they had while he wasn’t around, their arguments must have been quashed ruthlessly. Neil wasn’t sure who would have been doing the quashing; the only one even vaguely pleased to have him there was Nicky, who conscientiously sat in the middle to separate Neil and Aaron.

Sooner or later, Aaron was going to wizen up and pick a side. Neil was pretty sure he knew whose it was going to be. Andrew might put no value on family by blood, but Neil was pretty sure that Aaron wasn’t of the same opinion.

Sooner or later, he was going to realise that he had a brother.

Said brother hadn’t murmured when Neil told him to leave Kevin behind at the stadium earlier. That he would go back for him had been a given – he’d turned around without a word as soon as the rest of them got out of the car at the Tower.

Kevin’s morose silence from the front seat wasn’t a promising start to the evening, but Neil doubted it would outlast the night. Kevin was good at locking everything down far past the point other people would shatter but his breakdown was inevitable.

Nicky and Aaron were welcomed back warmly by the club staff at the door of Eden’s Twilight, but none of them were sure what to make of Neil. He’d been here a few times now, but not often enough that they recognised him by anything other than the mug shot splashed across the media after Drake. They offered him nods, which he returned while half-pushing Kevin through the door.

Roland’s eyes widened when he saw them from behind the bar, the smile on his face genuine. He bumped fists with the two cousins, voice warm as he chatted. Kevin dragged up a stool and sat, so Neil stood at his shoulder. Kevin’s size deterred the people around the bar from pushing too close to both of them, an effect probably compounded by the unfriendly hunch of his shoulders. Neil appreciated it; the bar area was packed with people looking to drink before they braved the dance floor.

Roland turned to the two of them once Aaron and Nicky peeled away to find them a table, his eyes meeting Neil’s.

“You’re a hero, you know that?” he said.

Neil frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Trust me, it’s not ridiculous.” Roland held up a glass. “Celebratory drink?”

“I don’t drink,” Neil reminded him. “Soda’s fine, though.”

Andrew returned then from parking the car, slotting into the spot at Neil’s side. Kevin jerked like he’d been elbowed; Andrew was right in his space, affording Neil a half-inch of breathing room in the crush.

“Here’s someone who must be ready for celebratory booze,” Roland said, dropping shots in front of Andrew and Kevin. “Welcome back.”

Kevin and Andrew threw them back without a word.

“You sure?” Roland asked Neil once more, hand hovering over a shot glass on the rack. He shook his head, so Roland put a can of soda on the tray for him and pushed it over for them to take.

“Drink and be merry,” he said, waving them off.

The other two had claimed a table, so Andrew took the tray and they walked across the outskirts of the dance floor to join them. Andrew had gotten cracker dust from Sweetie’s but didn’t bother to offer any to Neil. The four of them split the sachets between them, into drinks or their mouths.

Neil didn’t fail to notice that Andrew, who usually took more than the others, restricted himself to one sachet. That wasn’t surprising; his medication had been the cause of his tolerance to the drug, and seven weeks of sobriety had to have wrecked that. He was drinking slower than usual, too.

Neil felt as though he never heard anything about Andrew except for how wild and dangerous he was, how uncontrollable. It was a poor fit for a man who, as far as Neil could tell, never relinquished control when he could help it.

Once most of the alcohol on the table had been consumed, Nicky and Aaron disappeared to do whatever it was they did – dance, Neil presumed, though he struggled to picture Aaron doing any such thing.

He used the excuse to lean a little bit closer to Kevin. He said in French, “Was it really that bad?”

The look Kevin shot him would have killed a lesser man. Neil, unafraid of Kevin Day’s poisonous scowl, didn’t retreat.

“He didn’t kick you off the team. You’d be a wreck if he had,” he prodded.

Kevin hissed. “Is that all you think I care about?”

“No,” Neil replied. Kevin cared about all sorts of things, though he was terrible at showing it.

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s not as if your father…” Kevin snapped, and then stopped, realising he was walking into risky territory. Neil never reacted well to mentions of Nathan.

“Your father and mine are very different. Yours isn’t someone to be frightened of, for a start,” Neil said, his voice calm. He wasn’t upset, but he also wasn’t going to tolerate it. “Yours won’t turn you black and blue for growing a pair, so you might want to try that sometime.”

He stood. “I’m going to get a drink.”

It was an announcement to the table at large. Kevin lifted his glass again, his gaze mutinous. Andrew flicked him a glance but gave no other indication that he cared. That was fine by Neil.

The bar was less packed when Neil made his way over, and Roland was waiting as soon as he got within earshot.

“More drinks?” he asked, indicating the table with his head.

“Probably,” Neil guessed with a shrug. “Mostly I came to get one for me. I got tired of celebrating, I guess.”

Roland chuckled. Considering the only people sitting at the table right now were Kevin and Andrew, both of whom were drinking in silence, Neil could see why. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“It’s been a long few weeks,” Neil said, as though he needed to provide an excuse for the others.

“I bet,” Roland replied, “It must be good to have Andrew back, though, right?”

“Uh,” Neil said. “Yeah, I guess.”

It wasn’t really a lie. Neil could foist responsibility for Kevin off on him again, for a start.

“Oh, the enthusiasm,” Roland remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Neil mirrored him. “It’s complicated.”

“Most things about that lot seem to be,” he replied, flicking a look over Neil’s shoulder to the table again. “Are you?”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?” Neil tried to keep the scorn out of his voice, but he didn’t think he achieved it. Roland smirked, looking back to the drink he was mixing as he said something about the club and his job. The way the coloured lights overhead reflected in the glasses as he moved them caught and held Neil’s eye, almost dazzling.

“Hey,” Roland said. Neil looked up to meet his eye, realising he’d missed whatever Roland had said last in his fixation on the lights and Roland’s easy movements. “Do you mind if we take this somewhere a bit quieter? I wanted to ask you something.”

There was a smile curving his mouth, but his eyes were serious. He didn’t look concerned, though. Neil frowned but nodded.

Roland gestured at him to follow as he walked along the bar and out one end. There was a door inset in the wall with a keypad that Roland put a number into, holding the door ajar for Neil to slip through.

The hallway was a bright contrast to the dim club, painted in bright white. Roland ushered Neil along until they rounded a corner, where the music finally faded from ear-shattering to merely loud. There, they both came to a stop.

“What did you want to talk about?” Neil asked, not bothering to mask his impatience.

Roland stepped forward and pressed him up against the wall – not hard, but firmly. He was nearly six feet tall and blocked Neil’s vision with the bulk of his body.

“Just this,” he said, and then he kissed Neil.

It wasn’t unpleasant. Neil kissed him back more out of surprised reflex than anything else, neck tilted at a hard upwards angle so that Roland wasn’t stooping. He noticed vaguely that Roland’s hands were gentle and warm on Neil’s neck, and that he tasted like alcohol.

It wasn’t unpleasant. Neil’s heart was pounding, though, and it wasn’t out of pleasure.

“ _Roland_ ,” Andrew snarled from behind them, making them startle apart. Neither of them had heard the door. Neil felt shell-shocked, touching a finger absently to the heated curve of his lips.

Roland had dropped back the second he realised that Andrew was there, but he looked rueful rather than openly concerned. Looking at Andrew’s face, Neil would have gone for the latter – he was furious. Neil couldn’t tell why.

“Neil,” Roland said after a moment, when it became clear that Andrew wasn’t going to say anything else. “Go back to the others.”

He stepped even further back so Neil could get around him without touching him. Andrew wasn’t quite so considerate – he moved, but not far enough that he couldn’t pinch the fabric of Neil’s cuff between his fingers and bring him to a halt.

“Did he ask?” Andrew asked in rapid German. His gaze was piercing to the point where Neil wasn’t sure that Andrew wasn’t looking right through him.

“Ask me what?” Neil replied, mystified.

“ _If he could touch you_ ,” Andrew growled. Neil blinked back at him until he made a noise of disgust and gestured down the hall behind him. This time Neil didn’t go.

“What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“If you are unable to say no on your own behalf, I will say it for you,” Andrew replied, and this time he looked at Roland. His voice promised violence.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Neil said, and then rephrased, because there was no chance Andrew didn’t have something to say about that. “Nothing worth hurting him over.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, Andrew,” Neil replied dutifully. “Come with me.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at him. “No. Go back to Nicky.”

Neil looked from him to Roland, once and back again. “Just remember that if you break him you won’t have anyone to make your drinks.”

Andrew waved him off, so this time Neil went. Nicky was waiting at the table, his brown eyes wide.

“Neil, what the hell? Andrew just stormed off after you,” he said.

“And you just stayed here?” Neil asked, climbing back up onto his stool.

“Uh, yeah, he told me to. Trust me, I don’t disagree with him when he sounds like that,” Nicky said.

“He’s fine.” _Probably_. _Andrew probably won’t actually kill Roland_ , Neil thought.

“Are _you_ fine?” Nicky asked, taking his own stool. He leaned across so he could look at Neil closely, one arm planted on the table.

Neil’s hands were shaking almost imperceptibly, and his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

A hand appeared out of nowhere and shoved Nicky backwards out of Neil’s space. Andrew retook his stool, leaving one empty between him and Neil.

He didn’t say anything. Neil watched him for a second, and then looked over his shoulder to the bar. Roland was there, lacking any new bruises as far as Neil could see, busy again with mixing drinks. He didn’t glance towards their table at all.

Fingers clicked by his ear, making him startle; Andrew, wanting his attention. Neil turned to him, noting his calm expression. “Yeah?”

“He won’t bother you again,” he said.

Neil found himself stuck between thanking Andrew and telling him he didn’t require his protection, or whatever this was. He said, instead, “Is that what you call bothering?”

Andrew looked back at him for a long moment. “Nicky. Go away.”

Nicky sputtered but complied. That left Kevin, who was examining the sticky tabletop, and couldn’t speak a word of German.

“That’s what I call assault,” Andrew replied, tone brutal.

“You learn that in class?” Neil quipped, before he thought better of it. Andrew’s major in Criminal Justice was a joke amongst the upperclassmen, considering his stance on things like speed limits and banned substances.

“That’s a casual way of speaking about assault for someone who killed a man for it.”

Neil had forgotten Andrew’s gift for hitting soft spots. He didn’t flinch – he earned that shot fair and square. “Point made, Minyard.”

“Is it, though? Because I thought you’d given up on holding back when it comes to defending yourself.”

The idea that Neil needed to violently defend himself from an overly familiar bartender was laughable. “I know when I’m actually in danger, Andrew. Give me a little bit more credit than that. And it’s not as though Roland would still be here if you really thought he was a threat.”

“A man frightened enough to carry a weapon shouldn’t be as relaxed as you are when it comes to using it,” Andrew said.

That was less a statement of fact than it was an indirect question. Neil could feel Andrew’s meaning at the edge of his awareness, but no better than that. “If you have a question, just ask it. I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.”

Andrew said, “Riko told me that he had you already. Is that what turns you into a block of wood when you’re afraid?”

That first part sounded as though Andrew was quoting Riko. It took Neil a moment to parse the words. He blinked, and then tilted his head. “You didn’t think he might have said that to get a reaction out of you?”

“That’s not the question I’m asking.” His gaze said that an evasion on Neil’s part wouldn’t go down well. Luckily, Neil didn’t have a reason to.

He hooked a hand into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to expose the scar on his collarbone. He’d gotten it after Kevin had left the Nest, a mark of Riko’s foul temper. Neil remembered less of the incident than he did of the team doctor lecturing him on not antagonising his teammates while he stitched it up. There was nothing like knowing that no one would help you to strengthen your resolve to help yourself. He left months later, but that was the moment he’d started to plan.

He hadn’t been the only one. By then, Riko had already been looking for strings to pull that would damage the man he called Kevin’s new pet. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to determine what to say in order to strike Andrew where it would hurt.

Neil said, “Riko likes violence, but not the kind you’re talking about. His is the sort I’m afraid of. And whatever he said, he was lying to you.”

Andrew’s gaze flickered to the scar and then back to Neil’s face. “Alright.”

There was no further question in his eyes, nothing but a calm acceptance of Neil’s words as absolute truth. Neil didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him with that expression before. That was probably why he went on, against every grain of common sense.

“Do you remember,” Neil said, knowing that he would, “I said to you that you wouldn’t like it if you made things the same here as they were in the Nest.”

Andrew nodded, hazel eyes impassive.

“You know they – drugged me. More than once. Mostly they just got me to do stupid shit. Videoed it. Normal asshole stuff,” Neil said, and then shook his head, one side of his mouth quirking. “Maybe not normal. There was a limit to what I could do about that, but…hypothetically, if any Raven was an attempted rapist, that Raven would have suffered a terrible career-ending injury that saw them exiled to backwater Idaho.”

“I don’t deal in hypotheticals.”

“And I don’t talk about topics that might make my upcoming murder trial uncomfortable.”

That was a reminder, though a gentle one: _do you know whom you’re dealing with?_

Andrew’s expression didn’t give much away, but if anyone understood, it was him. They were both the kind of men who were prepared to do whatever they had to.

Neil frowned, thinking back. “When did Riko tell you that?”

“The interview with Kathy Ferdinand.”

Months and months ago, then. Andrew had thought all this time that Riko had raped him, and Neil had never even realised because he had never given any indication.

Except that wasn’t quite true. Andrew had been violent with him more than once, but since then he’d been a keen observer of Neil’s space in the same way that Neil was of his.

Neil thought of a pinch of his cuff to halt him, a hand to his mouth to silence him that didn’t touch, and the barest brush of fingers against his hand when he’d been drugged at the first banquet. He’d repaid that last with a punch.

It figured that Andrew would have seen it for a trigger. It wasn’t like he was wrong.

The avoidance of touching was an understanding, and, in its way, a kindness Neil never would have ascribed to Andrew. The realisation left him blinking at the man in question. He hadn’t thought Andrew cared enough to offer him that consideration.

Andrew was looking back at him, utterly impassive. Neil opened his mouth but stopped before he could actually say anything. His thoughts weren’t clear enough, and he didn’t think any of the questions darting through his mind would be well received. Especially when the first was, _how much do you actually hate me?_

“Okay,” Neil said, content to stop until he got his mind in order. Andrew kept watching him for a long moment before he reached for his drink again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x
> 
> Next: Neil gets his thoughts straight.


	31. Chapter 31

Once Neil started to wonder about Andrew, he couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t so much noticing things as it was a slow unravelling of all of his assumptions over the last few months. He leaned his head against the window of the quiet car on the drive back to campus and picked through them, one after the other.

Andrew giving him the key to the house in Columbia as nothing but incentive for Neil to stay. Bringing him to Luther’s house, and entrusting him with Kevin afterwards. Not pushing him off the roof after his keys despite Neil’s meddling. All things that Neil could technically ascribe to their complicated exchange of promises and actions and truths.

Outside of technicality, there were too many things that didn’t make sense. Andrew had placed his trust in Neil, kept him close, and protected him when he had no apparent motivation to do so. He still was. There was a very shaken bartender back in Columbia who could attest to that.

Whatever Kevin had promised to Andrew couldn’t be enough to justify that. And Neil’s truths and favours couldn’t, either. There had to be something else that meant Neil was still here after all these months.

Andrew had to have a reason. Neil knew that. He’d known that all along. It was just that, until now, he hadn’t taken the time to consider what that reason might be.

Neil had come this far on intuition and a blind commitment to making things work for him, but he’d noticed a long time ago that Andrew responded best to questions. So he figured it was probably time to ask.

 

* * *

 

Kevin had permitted them a week off to readjust to being back on campus, but Monday saw the return of their night practices. Andrew was waiting for them in the car and drove them to the court in silence.

Neil and Kevin left him in the lounge while they changed out, but Neil stopped Kevin as he went to leave.

“Start without me,” he said.

“What?” Kevin had been his normal self since he’d woken with a crippling hangover on Saturday morning, which meant that he was annoyed to have his plans interrupted, and not shy about showing it.

“Give me twenty minutes. I need to talk to Andrew.”

“What? What am I supposed to do?” He made it sound as though he hadn’t spent hours alone honing his right-handed aim with just Andrew’s disinterested presence in the stands before Neil joined the Foxes.

Neil rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, Kevin. Go bounce a ball off the same spot on the wall for fifteen minutes.”

Kevin huffed but left without Neil. By the time Neil ventured into the lounge, he was long gone. Andrew was still there, sitting cross-legged at one end of the couch with his phone in his lap. He wasn’t looking at it, but he didn’t look up at Neil’s entrance either.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Neil said, dumping his helmet and gloves by the door for later. He’d left most of his armour in his locker today – Kevin was touchy about getting hit in scrimmage so close to a game, so they were sticking to non-contact drills. He perched at the opposite end of the couch from Andrew.

Andrew threw him a flat glance. “You’re stupider than I thought.”

“I didn’t realise you’d started to _over_ estimate me now,” Neil said. “You haven’t been against going another round before.”

“You don’t know when to stop pushing.”

“Then tell me not to ask. I won’t be offended.” He would be stuck, certainly, but taking offense would be stupid enough to prove Andrew right about Neil’s intelligence.

Andrew was still and quiet for long enough that Neil started to feel concerned about his timeframe – he didn’t trust Kevin to wait on the court until Neil showed. Then he said, “Ask.”

Neil held up the key to the house in Columbia, glinting between his fingers. “How much is this worth to you?”

Andrew looked at the key for an endless moment. “I thought we established that already.”

“Did we? Because I’m not sure we’re on the same wavelength.”

He’d caught Andrew on the back foot. He wasn’t sure whether that was lucky or dangerous; he couldn’t predict how Andrew would react. His stare was a silent demand for Neil to elaborate.

“Why am I still here?” Neil asked. “Because I’m trying to figure out where I gave you something valuable enough for you to let me stay in exchange.”

“I thought we established that, too.”

“If I ever thought that Kevin was a good enough trade-off for the trouble I’ve caused you, I don’t anymore. I can barely imagine that whatever he offered you is equal repayment for the damage _his_ presence has done.”

“That’s for me to determine.”

“Of course. But I don’t want to think that you’re allowing me to stay out of some sense of obligation,” Neil said. “We’re square. I don’t want you beholden to me over something I don’t even know about.”

“Then what would you do if I said yes? That there was something else?”

Neil traced the teeth of the key with his index finger. “Then I’d hope that you’d ask me what I would consider equal repayment for it, so that we could be even. I don’t want you to owe me.”

“That’s a change of tune,” Andrew said.

“Not really,” Neil replied. “When I said ‘truth for a truth’, I meant it. I always wanted to end up on an even standing.”

Andrew had been looking into the middle distance, but he did glance to Neil at that. “You’re safe. You don’t owe me anything.”

He said it with finality, like he wouldn’t tolerate Neil questioning him further. But Neil had no reason to – he knew that Andrew wouldn’t lie.

It didn’t really answer Neil’s true question – _why am I still here_ – but it was enough to ease his mind. He didn’t move from his couch cushion.

After a moment, Andrew breathed out something that resembled a sigh. “Was there something else?”

“Actually, yeah,” Neil said. “You can touch me.”

He went still. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Neil started, and then frowned. It was hard to get the phrasing right. “I know you thought…you’re always so careful, but I’m not that fragile.”

“You don’t like to be touched.” Andrew said, like he was reminding Neil. His tone had an impatient edge. Neil’s frown turned to a scowl.

“I don’t like to be touched by people I don’t know,” he corrected, his voice hard. “I’m not damaged, and I make my own choices. The others touch me. You can, too. I’m not afraid of you.”

Andrew looked at him for a long moment and then spun on his ass to face Neil fully, crossing his legs in front of him. Neil mirrored him without thinking, his sneakers sliding roughly on the fabric underneath him.

Andrew held both of his hands out between, palms up. He had callouses across the bases of his fingers from holding his racquet, Neil noticed. Neil had the same.

“I don’t like to be touched,” he said. “I know you know that.”

Neil nodded. “I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just saying, you can if you want.”

Andrew dropped one hand back into his lap and held the other one out to Neil like an offering.

“Yes? Or no?” he asked.

Neil looked down at his hand again, and then back. He could feel his brow furrowing as he held out his own hand, narrow-palmed and long-fingered compared with Andrew’s broader, squarer one. He hovered it close to Andrew’s, but didn’t touch.

“Yes,” he said. “You?”

Andrew didn’t have a readable face, but the way he met Neil’s gaze dead on meant something. “Yes.”

Neil touched their fingers together very carefully, his on top of Andrew’s upturned ones. Andrew stayed stock-still. His skin was hot, much more so than Neil would have thought considering his manner. Neil lingered there for a moment and then lifted his hand away.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice low.

Andrew flipped his hand over. The backs of his knuckles were faintly scarred – Neil knew he’d put his fist through at least one window, so it didn’t surprise him. Neil’s own were hardly flawless.

He asked again, “Yes or no?”

Neil’s hand was still between them. “Yes.”

Andrew was a little more forward, closing his fingers around Neil’s palm and pulling it closer. His thumb pressed into the ball of Neil’s, the tips of his fingers brushing the underside of Neil’s wrist. Handcuffs had left him scarred there, and the tickle of the touch made Neil’s fingers twitch to close out of reflex. He restrained himself.

Neil was watching Andrew’s hand, but when he looked up Andrew was staring at his face.

Neil said, “I’m not a bomb that’s going to explode in your face.”

Andrew reached out – slowly – and pinched Neil’s chin between the finger and thumb of his free hand. “I don’t think you know what you are doing.”

But that touch was a flowering of the truth between them that even Neil couldn’t fail to miss. He said it himself: _I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to._ That Andrew was right here, fingers on Neil’s jaw, meant that he wanted to be. The possibilities, previously unconsidered by Neil, were a white-hot series of fireworks in his brain. He spent a reeling moment forcing his way through them and then out.

“I think I’m figuring it out,” he said at last, with a creeping, crooked twitch of a smile.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Andrew corrected, his voice dull and hard as stone.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I think that you want to ascribe things to me that will never exist.” He meant what he said months ago, Neil thought, up on the roof after the first banquet when Neil had confronted him about protecting him after they broke their deal. _I don’t want anything_.

“Do you really think that? Because you do an awful lot of therapy for someone sure he’s never going to feel or want anything.”

Andrew went still. Neil had never believed him, but not because he thought that Andrew was lying. It was because he’d been there, too.

“People like us get tired of wanting what we can’t have. So we stop. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” Neil said. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take the things that are offered to us.”

“Guess you know that one from experience.”

“No one ever offered me anything in my whole life, until you made me a deal,” Neil replied. “Otherwise I’ve just had to take what I want. But I know that’s not your style.”

Andrew raised his eyebrow, a silent prompt for Neil to elaborate. Neil smiled. “You’re more the asking type.”

Andrew looked unimpressed by this pronouncement, but he still hadn’t moved his fingers from Neil’s jaw.

“I’m not afraid of you, or of asking you,” Neil said. “And I’m not afraid to say no.”

“Fine,” Andrew said, closing the space between them.

He kissed with more fire than Neil could have imagined in him, and it was the kind that spread. Neil, who was not by nature accustomed to the sensation, felt it catch in his throat and belly, setting his skin aflame.

He’d kissed a few people before, but no one like this. The obvious parallel was Friday night, and the press of Roland against Neil, surprise turning him slow and uncoordinated. This wasn’t like that. He yielded before he thought about, his mouth opening in invitation.

He reached out to touch Andrew’s arm to satisfy his sudden skin-hunger and caught himself: Andrew, sensing the movement, reached out and took hold of his wrist, pushing his hand down so he held it against the couch.

They both paused for a second, pulling away to wait for panic that never came. Andrew’s hold was loose, a warning rather than a restraint. Neil could have broken free with a quick twist of his arm. Both of them knew it.

He pulled away, slowly, and then placed his hands flat on the couch on the outsides of his thighs. He didn’t need to say anything, he didn’t think: the intent of the action was clear.

Andrew hadn’t offered him free reign to touch – he hadn’t offered him anything except a kiss. Neil wouldn’t take more than that from him, not least because he could barely imagine more, with his brain blurring with the sensation of just their mouths touching. He could still feel his lips buzzing, roughened and hot.

Andrew didn’t look angry, but there was a taste of it in his voice when he spoke. “I hate you.”

That was still the truth. Neil said, “I know that. I don’t care. If you want a reason to say no, I won’t give you one, so just say it. Otherwise, I’ll wait on a yes. And you can ask me whenever.”

It was, admittedly, a brave thing to say for a man who had no idea what he was doing, and who was still a little stunned by realisation. Andrew didn’t say anything, his expression giving away no hint of either acceptance or denial. That was fine, but Neil was out of time. “Right now, I need to go before Kevin comes to find out what’s taking me so long. You know where I’ll be.”

He left Andrew behind to do whatever it was he usually did during their evening practices. Entering the stadium at 10pm at night was always strangely dazzling, with the rows and rows in the stands in darkness outside the reach of the court lights. The court itself was some kind of sculptural installation, plexiglass diffusing the spotlights inside to a softer glow. It was beautiful, particularly from this distance.

Kevin had cones set up, a lone figure constantly moving through drills Neil could do in his sleep. It figured he’d fall back on Raven habits when he was alone; Neil did, too.

Neil blew out a long breath, pushing aside his intense awareness of his own mouth. He still had a job to do tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, I probably should have used the 'slow burn' tag. Thanks for reading! xx
> 
> Art for this chapter by the gorgeous broship-addict [here](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com/post/148321424577/quick-sketch-because-badacts-wonder-of-a-fic-has) <3
> 
> Next: Neil makes his first (?) mistake in the game.


	32. Chapter 32

After Monday night, Neil and Andrew returned to their customary half-inch-or-more distance. That wouldn’t have been so distracting if half an inch didn’t suddenly seem vast to Neil.

The team practices leading up to their game against the University of Texas took up most of his concentration during daylight hours – he wasn’t _that_ distracted – but too often the rest of the time he found himself thinking about Andrew’s fingers on the delicate inside of his wrist.

He’d kissed people before Andrew, and before Roland. But things didn’t work like that in the Nest, especially with Riko’s attention so firmly on him. It hadn’t seemed worth it, not like it did to Kevin with Thea. Then afterwards he’d thought maybe that kind of interest in other people wasn’t for him anymore, if it ever had been.

That could still have been right. But Andrew’s interest had cracked opened the door.

Practice on Wednesday was only interesting for who _wasn’t_ there – Aaron tagged along with Andrew to his weekly appointment with Betsy, and so they came back halfway through together. Andrew looked predictably unbothered, and Aaron even more predictably annoyed, but the latter didn’t waste any time in asserting to Wymack and Andrew both that the appointments were going to be a regular thing when Wymack asked.

Friday’s weather was appalling, wet shoes turning hallways across the campus to skating rinks. Neil perched on top of his desk once his classes were done for the morning, looking out the window at the bright blurs of students down below through the relentless rain on the glass. He wondered what would happen if they couldn’t make the game tonight because of flight cancellations. Then he thought of planes in general. He gave himself a few minutes to let nervousness shudder through him.

It didn’t matter that his fear of being on the court had, mostly, been assuaged. He still didn’t like the idea of being confined to a tin can thirty-thousand feet in the air.

Matt entered their suite soaked to the skin. His laughter about Allison’s unfortunate drenching forced Neil to push his thoughts aside. He was more likely to die a number of ways other than a plane crash.

Once Matt was changed into dry clothes, they collected the girls and walked down to the truck together. The monsters were waiting at the court, no doubt forced into being earlier by Kevin. Wymack wasted no time in making them pack their gear before he ordered them onto the bus for the drive to the airport.

Neil hadn’t been to Upstate Regional Airport before – his last flight had been from England back to the States when he was thirteen. He forced that thought away too as they queued to check in.

The Vixens were already scattered around the gate lounge. Neil took a look around and then retreated well out of range towards the enormous windows that overlooked the tarmac.

Through the glass, a plane hurtled along the runway and catapulted into the air, buffeted by the wind. It wasn’t exactly a comforting sight.

Neil wasn’t the only one watching, either. When he tore his gaze away, he noticed Andrew standing a little way down from him, doing the exact same thing. His expression was unmoved, but his fixed concentration gave him away.

Neil walked closer, drawn in. “Heights, huh.”

Andrew didn’t look at him. “And you’re a claustrophobe.”

“At least you’re in good company.”

Andrew didn’t turn, but his eyes flickered to Neil. “Unasked-for company.”

“If you want me to go, then say so,” Neil said. “But I think it’s better not to be alone when you’re afraid.”

Andrew didn’t tell him to leave. He said, “That explains so much about you.”

“Nothing that you didn’t already guess,” Neil replied. “You push pretty hard at your own boundaries. Why bother? Flying is one thing, but no one is forcing you to go onto the roof of the Tower. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s actively discouraged.”

“For someone who walked onto the court even though he was afraid, that seems like a stupid question.”

“So are you saying that it’s the same reason?” Neil had done it because he needed to be on the court to stay alive under the conditions of his deal with the Moriyamas, and because he needed it to want to be alive anyway. That didn’t sound like Andrew, though.

He hummed. “How did you feel when the door swung closed on you, your very first game with the Foxes?”

“Fucking terrified,” Neil replied. Andrew nodded, as though that was an answer to Neil’s question. After a moment, Neil realised that perhaps he meant it to be.

He said, “I think there must be easier things to feel.”

Andrew’s impassive gaze turned to Neil, but before he could say anything in response the speaker overhead blared an announcement that their flight was boarding. Without another word, they made their way to the gate to join the others.

Neil was in a row of three with Kevin and Andrew, him against the window and Andrew at the aisle. Neil hadn’t bothered bringing anything with him for the flight – Kevin had a magazine, and Andrew a pen that he was spinning between his fingers as he stared at the back of the seat in front of him. It was a fairly noticeable tell.

The announcement that the doors were being locked did nothing to ease Neil’s discomfort. He felt the bite of pain in his hands, realised he was digging his nails into the meat of his palms, and didn’t stop. The sharp sting of it almost distracted him from his awareness of his own heartbeat.

The plane jerked as it started to move, creeping backwards away from the terminal. Neil gritted his teeth.

The process of taking off was bad, the feeling of being rushed along the ground at a massive rate until the lumbering machine heaved itself into the air leaving him rigid in his seat.

Being in the air was worse. Even when they levelled out and his awareness of the plane moving faded, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was now very high in the air in a confined place, with no option of escape. He pulled at his seatbelt to loosen it.

There was certainly nowhere to run. He was halfway to the Raven’s court, locked in with people who wanted to hurt him. He was nearly back in the trunk of a car in Baltimore, sick with the stink of blood and death.

It felt like the atmosphere itself was forcing the walls in on him. His lungs, unconvinced that there was enough air to feed them, started to seize. His breathing rate quickened, trying to match his racing heart.

A pen bounced off of the back of his hand. “Stop that.”

Kevin, who’d been happily absorbed in the January copy of EXY he’d bought in the airport, jerked and looked to Neil. Andrew, who’d thrown the pen, was already staring forwards again.

Neil, whose breathing had halted and then returned at a more regular rate, stretched his fingers out. He inhaled the scent of recycled air and people, Kevin’s deodorant and Matt’s hair gel from where he sat in front of them.

He stretched his fingers out. He’d left crescents in his palms, but there was no blood. That was lucky: he had a game to play tonight that required the used of his hands.

He reached down, picked up the pen, and passed it back around Kevin. Andrew took it after a moment, holding it still in his right hand.

When Neil leaned back, Kevin put down Neil’s tray table and dumped the magazine on it so they could both see it. “Here. This is an interesting article on the collegiate to professional pathway.”

It was Kevin’s typical level of abysmal comfort, but Neil would take it. He read the article, and listened to Kevin’s comments on it with the odd nod or verbal disagreement. Before he knew it, they were told to prepare for landing.

The team dispersed on the ground in Atlanta, most to get food and coffee. Neil, whose stomach was quietly complaining of stress, waved the others off when they asked him along. He went for a walk around the terminal alone, after assuring Wymack that he’d be back in time to not miss their flight.

He passed the Starbucks that was crowded with both Foxes and Vixens, and headed along one wing of the terminal past gate lounges crowded with people. He hadn’t gone far when he realised that someone was following him.

“Neil,” a female voice said, soft enough he barely heard it. He stopped and turned to find Katelyn hovering behind him, her expression a long way from its usual cheer.

“Hi,” Neil said, with a quick glance around to make sure no one – Aaron, especially – was watching.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” she rushed out, “…is Aaron okay?”

Neil felt suddenly and intensely uncomfortable. “I think so?”

Privately, he doubted that Aaron was particularly okay right now, cut off from the person he’d chosen as his cornerstone. If the most important part of Andrew was his control, then the same for Aaron was his lack of it. He hadn’t chosen being an addict, or being orphaned, or sobriety, or even PSU. He had, however, picked Katelyn.

Sometimes Neil forgot that Aaron was a Fox. He might have been resigned to having everything taken from him, whether it was by his brother or something else, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn. Underneath the prejudice and the shitty attitude, there was the deep intelligence that would see him into med school, and the tenacity that had seen him this far in life at all.

Neil still really didn’t like him. But he was starting to understand him better.

“Can you-” Katelyn tried again, and then huffed in abject frustration. “I don’t – do you know _why_?”

“Why he broke up with you?” She nodded quickly, looking sick to her stomach, or like she was expected a blow. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Her expression was grim. “Not the truth. Well, I don’t think so.”

_That_ was interesting. Neil had no reason to keep Aaron’s secrets. “He wants to keep you safe.”

She blinked. “From Andrew?”

Aaron must have warned her, at least, for her to make that leap, but she didn’t look afraid enough. “He’ll hurt you to make sure Aaron keeps his promise. Worse than you know.”

“Aaron told me what he used to do to his girlfriends.”

“Then you know why you should stay away.”

“I love him,” she cut in, her voice suddenly gone calm. She didn’t follow that up with anything – her eyes were a little damp, but she stared at Neil with challenge written all over her face.

“That’s not going to mean anything,” Neil replied, his tone unintentionally harsh. “But if he feels the same about you, then maybe you have a chance.”

He would need to, to be willing to finish the fight he’d started with Andrew.

Her expression went stark – disbelief with the thinnest ray of hope. Aaron must have really been an asshole to her. She was playing for keeps, though. Neil had known that since the second she started this conversation. She offered him the barest smile, shivering at the corners, and left without another word.

Neil cast another look around. The rest of the Foxes were at the gate, caught up with some kind of scuffle between Nicky and Kevin, oblivious to Neil’s absence. He went to join them.

The second flight wasn’t any more comfortable, but he felt less panicky now that he had with one flight over. In the window seat again, he leaned his head against the hard plastic of the wall and stared out at the clouds, lost in thought until they landed again.

Wymack had hired a van to get them from the airport to the University of Texas. He got them on the road without much of a production once they managed to load all of their gear into the smaller vehicle. Their trip was only punctuated with a stop for dinner, which they wolfed down. Everyone knew they had a difficult test of stamina tonight, so they were all desperate to consume enough calories to sustain them through it.

The UT stadium wasn’t quite as garishly painted as the Foxhole Court, but looking out at the orange-and-white crowd flooding into it was comforting even if they were there to see the Foxes put in their place. Their minibus drew around the far side of the stadium to the athlete parking, away from the spectators.

There was security gathered there – and they weren’t the only ones. Neil took one look at the small cluster of reporters hanging around the doors and smiled.

A crowd of guards escorted them into the stadium, but it was impossible not to notice the stares Neil got, or the yells from outside their protective huddle. Neil, pressed into the middle of the Foxes, didn’t reply. There would be time for that later.

Inside the stadium, they made their way into the locker rooms and changed out, donning their orange-on-white away gear. Then, helmets and gloves off, they headed into the outer ring for their warm-up jog.

It felt good to burn out the last of Neil’s pent-up energy from the travel – he would have liked to go longer, but Dan pulled them off to stretch after a mile. They clattered back while UT came on for their own jog, an endless stream of players filing through to the roaring of the crowd. At the same time, the Vixens had come out and located the Fox fans, inciting cheering from them, too. Neil watched them as he stretched lightly, letting the noise wash over him.

There was a commotion on the far side of the court, flashes of black out of the corner of Neil’s eyes. He saw the security, first – there were some familiar faces there. Not quite so familiar as the people they were there to protect, though. Riko and Jean were seated in the front row, an insolent king in someone else’s court with his attendant subject.

Neil’s wavering attention drew the eyes of his teammates. Allison snarled, “What the fuck are they doing here?”

“I can ask,” Neil said, already turning.

“Don’t you dare,” Wymack said, grabbing him by his jersey. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we have a game to play. I won’t have you climbing into the audience to start a fight before the buzzer even goes.”

“Does that mean we’re allowed to start a fight after the buzzer goes?” Nicky chirped. Wymack said something non-complimentary to him that Neil didn’t hear. His focus was on Kevin. The other striker was white-faced but he looked away when he felt Neil’s eyes on him.

“You can do this,” Neil said in a low mutter of French, the first comforting words he might have given Kevin since he’d become a Fox. It wasn’t a lie. “I played backliner against Riko for years. I’ve played it against you for months now. You’re as good. And you’ll be better.”

Kevin looked – stunned, was the only word for it. But no longer afraid.

“Let’s do this,” Matt said. He was grinning. “Show them how it’s done.”

Dan and the Longhorn captain met in the centre of the court to shake and do the coin toss. The Foxes won first serve, and the Longhorns took home court. Both teams took the court in their variations of white and orange,

Dan, who was back at her mark with the ball in hand, said, “You ready, strikers?” 

Neil spun his racquet in his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Kevin?”

He’d been staring off into the middle distance, but he threw a glance over his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Ready.”

Overhead, the buzzer went off, blasting through the roaring of the crowd. They bolted.

First half was a rout for the Foxes with Andrew in the goal: they came off with a four-point lead at the break, having only conceded one to the Longhorns. It wasn’t for lack of trying on UT’s part – their starting dealer was vicious, and their strikers were quick to push towards the Fox goal when they could, but they couldn’t get past Matt and Aaron. When they did, Andrew was right there to deny them. Apparently he was taking Wymack’s offer of booze in exchange for keeping the score under three for his half seriously.

Neil, who scored three out of five of their goals, let the surge of satisfaction carry him through half time and into the beginning of the second period. The Longhorns came out desperate to get the Foxes carded – they, of course, had players to spare if they earned red cards. The Foxes didn’t, so the second half turned into something of an exercise in restraint. It wasn’t a natural tactic for them, all born fighters, but the need to win the first game of the season outweighed their desire to put the Longhorns in their place.

The final score was eight-four to the Foxes. It was their first victory out of the conference phase for this season, and their most decisive at championships in the history of the team. Allison, who’d replaced Dan for the second half, crashed into Neil for a hug that nearly strangled him. Matt scooped them both up and spun them around once, which made Allison nearly deafen them both with her shriek. Even Kevin permitted Matt a one-armed squeeze.

They shook hands with the Longhorns and then crowded off of the court, into the hands of the press. Kevin was immediately roped into giving a post-match interview by Wymack, and Dan stepped up to do the same.

Neil made it halfway to the locker room door before someone called his name. For a moment he considered ignoring it. But he’d changed his tattoo for a reason other than needing to own himself – it was a statement, too.

Also, he’d never been great at holding back.

He pulled off his helmet, dragging a hand through his hair. Folding it under his arm, he walked up to Kevin’s side.

There were plenty of reporters waiting for him. Their eyes were greedy as they took in the new tattoo. One of them shoved a microphone straight into his face.

“That was a very good game,” she said. “You look at home on the court as a striker now. Your last few games have been impressive, to say the least. Kevin was just saying so.”

“Glad you both think so,” Neil replied, raising an eyebrow. “I prefer the position, to be honest. It gives me more of a chance to make use of my natural strengths than the old one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, backliners don’t run much. Also, they’re usually bigger than me.” Aaron and Andrew were both shorter than Neil, but they outweighed him. Neil knew how to use his size to his advantage as a defensive player, but it had taken a lot of work to achieve that against players Kevin’s size or larger. “Being with the Foxes has given me a great opportunity to play as striker, one that I never would have gotten otherwise.”

“You think you missed out on a preferable position with the Ravens?”

“There was no room for another top striker on the Raven line. Of course I had to play defence,” Neil said, not quite an answer. He meant, _I was always meant to be number three, and that meant being a backliner._

“I know talk about a rivalry is everywhere in the media,” the reporter said, like she wasn’t one of the ones talking, “but you must be excited to have Riko and Jean here cheering you on tonight.”

Neil could have laughed. “Yes, it’s always good to have our old teammates in the crowd. Maybe they’ll have learnt something.”

The expressions in the crowd ranged from surprised to delighted. That Kevin kept his schooled was impressive – there was probably horror lurking under there somewhere.

“We couldn’t help but notice the change to your tattoo,” someone said. “Have you given up on the idea of the perfect court since joining the Foxes?”

Neil hadn’t gotten his number against his will – there’d been a time when he was proud of it – but he’d often thought that Riko’s obsession with pre-selecting top players was vaguely ridiculous. “My change of situation has given me a little room for thought. And reflection, too. From a distance, there isn’t much perfect about the perfect court.”

Another reporter flicked his gaze to Kevin. “What do you mean?”

“We’re all very good players,” Neil answered. “But I won’t be pigeon-holed to being third-best my entire career. Even if we were to make the US team together, I won’t let my potential be overshadowed by a number on my face.”

“Number three isn’t good enough for you? Kevin might need to watch out.”

“Maybe I’ll be number one,” Neil said with a sliver of a grin. That was sacrilege in these circles.

“You think that you have what it takes? Because Riko did say that the best you could expect from the Ravens was a position as a sub due to your issues with contact.”

“Did it look like I have issues with contact tonight?”   Neil asked. That got him a whole host of shaken heads.

“I spent five years with the Ravens, straight out of little league. If I couldn’t cope with the ‘physicality’ of the game,” he said, quotation marks for what Riko had said on Kathy Ferdinand’s show that had been repeated over and over about him for months in the media, “where do you think that issue developed?

“Everyone always talks about Raven ‘teamwork’. To me, that sounds like a joke. No real teamwork is focussed on the success and satisfaction of one player. I’m not interested in that approach anymore – it wins games at the cost of sacrificing every other player on the court.”

“And you think that the strategy of the Foxes can take you further? That they’re better?”

“That,” Neil said, pointing to the court, “isn’t a stone to break yourself on. The Foxes know that – for that they’re better players, and better people. And we’ll certainly prove the former in semi-finals.”

There were a lot of frenzied expressions in the crowd. Someone said, “And the latter?”

“We might end up proving that, too,” Neil said. “Thanks for your time.”

He didn’t have to drag Kevin away – he was in the lead, almost marching. Dan fell in beside Neil from where she’d been hovering off to the side overseeing them.

“Better players _and_ better people?” she muttered. She was grinning. “Neil, I’m blushing.”

“Neil, you can’t,” Kevin said, grinding to a halt the second the locker room door swung closed behind them. Neil stopped so quickly Dan bumped into his back.

“Don’t you dare dictate how I deal with this,” Neil cut him off. “We made a deal, remember? I deal with them, and you play.”

Kevin looked at him for a long moment. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

Neil gave him a flat look.

“What are you two looking so pissed over? We did just win, need I remind you,” Wymack asked, appearing to usher them out of the doorway.

“Neil was just giving the press more material to go wild over,” Dan said for them, sounding pleased.

“Oh, Jesus,” Wymack groaned. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with you in an asshole mood, Wesninski.”

“I was being nice,” Neil replied, “to the reporters.”

Wymack’s glare would have incinerated him if he had that ability. Neil took it as a good reason to head to the showers. He emerged last in clean clothes, and so was first to be herded out again amidst the cheerful chatting of the rest of the team.

The stadium had a ground floor exit from the away locker rooms and offices, which meant that they were away from the crowds streaming out of the main doors. Neil, who led the others out, emerged through it and crashed into someone standing on the other side.

That person grabbed him with both hands.

Before he could recognise that reaction for something done purely out of surprise, not malice, Neil drove his fist straight into their chest. The breathless grunt that resulted from his hit to their solar plexus was familiar, but they were already stumbling backwards by the time it clicked.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a chance to do anything before Andrew was there, slamming into Jean so hard that he nearly went over backwards onto the asphalt.

The next thirty seconds were a flurry of motion – Andrew went to follow through on his initial attack, only to be thwarted by Neil getting between the two of them. He let himself be pushed back, his gaze still fixed over Neil’s shoulder.

Thankful for the compliance, Neil turned back to Jean. He was upright but clutching at his chest and gasping, the air knocked from his lungs.

“What the hell are you doing here,” Neil snapped, looking around despite himself for Riko.

“What do you think,” Jean snarled back in Japanese. Riko wasn’t here, which meant that Jean had either done the unthinkable by abandoning him, or Riko had sent him. Neil knew which it was.

“What’s the message,” he demanded in the same language.

“Did you take too many balls to the head?” Jean demanded, which was not the message at all – that was all Jean. “You should know better. You threaten him in front of the Master, neuter his dog, and then show off your little symbol of rebellion to the entire world. Do you think he’ll sit by and take that?”

“No. I’m counting on it,” Neil said. Riko was going to make a mistake sooner or later – if Neil pushed him into it, so much the better.

“You’re counting on _him_ ,” Jean said. “So what happens when the Lord signs your death warrant? You aren’t that valuable, whoever your father is.”

“Riko isn’t in contact with the main branch,” Neil replied. “He isn’t exactly going to be telling them on me any time soon. And I’m not the only one with things to hide. I doubt his father would approve of his spending money on trying to get around him, even if he did deign to listen.”

“No, he isn’t in contact with them,” Jean replied, his gaze heavy, “but the Master is. And who, out of you and him, do you think the Lord is more inclined to listen to?”

Neil paused. Tetsuji, like Riko, was an exiled second son, disconnected from the main line as long as Kengo lived and had a male heir, but his years of dedication and tremendous financial worth had earned him some standing. However, drawing Kengo into it made this something else entirely. Tetsuji might have stooped to involve himself when he handed Neil a spiked drink in front of a conference-worth of players and officials, but it was doubtful that he would involve the main branch.

“I think you’re wrong,” Neil said. He couldn’t believe that Tetsuji would risk everything over _him_ , even as this game turned deadly.

Jean asked, “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

That was easy to answer. “Guess so,” Neil said with a quirk of his mouth that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nathaniel,” Jean said, his jaw tight. “You are making it very easy for him. Be smarter, if you want to stay alive.”

Neil looked back at him. “What was the message?”

“He said, ‘don’t expect to get another chance on the court against us. You won’t live that long’,” Jean recited.

“Then you can tell him that I mean to keep my promises,” Neil replied, which was maybe his stupidest move tonight. Jean’s expression certainly said he thought so. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

Jean blinked. “What?”

“I made you a promise, too. It’s just taken me longer than I’d like to see it through,” Neil said. That the promise had been to himself didn’t matter – Jean knew what he meant. “Don’t do anything stupid, remember.”

Jean didn’t nod, but his eyes flashed understanding. Neil said, “You better get back.”

“Let me walk you,” Renee said from behind him, sweet as sugar. The other Foxes were caught up in the doorway, blocked by Andrew’s body. Neil hadn’t noticed them arrive.

Jean looked slightly taken aback. “Why?”

“Courtesy, obviously,” she replied, offering her arm to him. It would have been vaguely comical with their foot of height difference if they were people other than Jean Moreau and Renee Walker. Renee looked at him with an easy smile – Jean, with suspicion overlaying a whisper of curiosity.

Jean took her arm. Renee led him off around the curve of the stadium with a little wave that said she’d be back momentarily.

“What the fuck,” Matt said from amidst the crowd in the doorway. “Is your girlfriend hitting on another guy now, Alli?”

Allison gave him a scathing look. “She’s not my girlfriend. And she’s not hitting on him.”

“Get on the bus. We have a flight to catch,” Wymack commanded with a brisk clap. “Move your asses!”

Andrew and Neil moved to get out of their way, which was the first time Neil realised that the entire time he’d been talking to Jean, Andrew had been at his side. He’d broken their half-inch rule, too – Neil felt the loss of his touch, just a brush of shoulder against shoulder, more intensely than he’d felt the touch in the first place.

When he looked to Andrew, Andrew wasn’t looking at him. He was staring after Jean and Renee. He felt Neil’s gaze on him, though.

“Didn’t you hear Coach?” he said. “Go on.”

That Neil felt warm looking at his impassive face was probably a sign of madness. He said, “Yeah.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <33
> 
> Next: Neil gets an early birthday present.


	33. Chapter 33

_You’re more the asking type._

Andrew’s brain, a thing of reckless fixation, couldn’t let that go. That, and pliant softness of Neil’s mouth against his, a welcome Andrew would know anywhere.

Andrew had forged himself into a weapon so long ago he thought he’d lost any potential for softness. His hands were for drawing blood, his mind honed to ruthlessness. If he could have made himself a skin of blades, he would have – he’d done the next best thing, instead. _Monster_ – a man out of control, and uncontrollable. A man to be feared.

And yet, he’d been gentling himself for months now. To be careful with the Raven runaway who’d proven himself a weapon several times over. The one who had looked Andrew in the eye knowing exactly what they both were and said _you can touch me_.

Trust was Neil’s hand in his, his brow furrowed in curiosity, without a trace of fear. That was what care had earned Andrew this time. In the past, it had always been pain. He couldn’t quite reconcile that. Probably because he could see this would end up that way, too.

Andrew didn’t hate him because of that. There was no point protesting the inevitable when he’d walked himself right into this. He hated Neil because he said _there must be easier things to feel_ and didn’t mean anger and hatred, but didn’t mean ‘nicer’ when he said ‘easier’, either. Because he prodded and guessed and knew too much. Because they were too similar.

Because Andrew was the one who’d given Neil all of the keys he needed, and was still angry that Neil wanted to find the locks they fit.

He wasn’t Andrew’s only problem, though. Unbelievably, Aaron was proving himself to be a bigger one, with his abandonment issues and his resentment over the girl he’d pushed away himself.

He’d sat in silence through the first session he sat in on with Bee and Andrew, refusing to answer any questions aimed at him or ask any of his own. Andrew had pretended that he wasn’t there. Bee didn’t quite do the same – she was unabashedly interested in whatever was behind Aaron’s presence – but she made a good attempt at continuing the session as normal.

Andrew had thought that Aaron wouldn’t come a second time. He was wrong.

The second session, Aaron changed his tactic. He sat in the same place, with his back against the rear wall of the office so that he could stare at Andrew’s back in his place in front of Bee’s desk. Bee was gently prompting Andrew in her usual style – bringing up topics that all boiled down to _need_ and _purpose_ and _want_ \- when Aaron interrupted her midsentence.

“Tell me again,” he said, “why you did it.”

He could have meant any number of things. He didn’t.

“Because I promised that I would. You didn’t believe me. Neither did she. That made it easy.”

“You waited a long time, if that’s the truth.” He sounded calm, but that was a front. They had the same temper. Andrew kept his eyes steady on the wall over Bee’s shoulder.

“Planning takes time,” he replied, with a little hitch of his shoulders. He’d never meant to be caught. Andrew was smart, but finesse was learned, not innate. He had worked harder than Aaron would ever know to ensure that Andrew was still there in the aftermath.

Not because he didn’t want to be locked up. He didn’t care. But his promise to Aaron hadn’t ended with Tilda in the morgue. Aaron was the one who’d forgotten that, so caught up in pretending it was shackles instead.

Aaron said, “Yeah. I bet revenge does.”

“Revenge is a waste of time and energy,” Andrew recited. “And that’s not what I promised you. Remember?”

“You said you would protect me. Not that you would murder her,” Aaron said, a snarl breaking free. Bee’s face didn’t change, but Andrew had watched her flick off her ever-present recorder a few minutes earlier. It wasn’t something that Andrew had told her, but he didn’t care if she knew.

“The only way she was ever going to stop was if she was dead.”

Tilda Minyard was like every abuser Andrew had ever met – sometimes sweet, sometimes loving, and often cruel. Aaron had just been caught in that cycle, over and over, no idea that there was anything else but soft words intermingled with bruises.

Cass had taught Andrew something, even if it was just the power of comparison.

Aaron was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “Neil said he wouldn’t regret what he did to Drake for the same reason you didn’t with Mom. He said I was blind to that because I was angry.”

“He was right,” Andrew said.

There was nothing said at all for several minutes. Bee waited to see if they would go on, and then final said, “Aaron?”

“I’m still not talking to you,” Aaron said.

She nodded. “Will you listen, though?”

Andrew didn’t bother to turn to see if Aaron nodded in reply, but he must have, because Bee went on, “I can understand why you are angry. Why you both are.”

Andrew tilted his head at her. She smiled. “I suppose the question is, where to from here?”

Andrew raised a hand, indicating the air around him. _Same old, same old_. Bee knew what it meant.

Aaron did, too. “I’m staying.”

He didn’t mean continuing with the shared sessions. That would have been aimed at Bee, and Aaron didn’t want to talk to her. It was for Andrew, the same thing he’d said when Andrew had offered to renew their deal at the end of high school.

Aaron’s presence and need for protection felt less like a shackle now than it did then, though not by much. That was probably because Andrew was less apathetic about being alive, these days.

Bee smiled again, enough to show her teeth. “I’ll see you both next week.”

She stood, but not before Aaron was out the door and gone. Andrew looked to the door, and then back to her, extracting a box from his pocket that he set on her desk.

“Time to break out the ruler,” he said, indicating Bee’s collection of figurines with a flick of his chin. His first ever gift had been a pointed prod in a tender spot, because he’d known that Bee would have to rearrange the ones that she did have. She’d taken it with grace, and a hint of sly amusement under her thanks. Andrew hadn’t trusted her at all then, but it had been a start.

These days, it was different, and they both knew it. Her voice was warm when she said, “Thank you, Andrew.”

In Reddin’s parking lot, Aaron was waiting by the car, having adopted an insouciant slump against the driver-side door. Apparently he still had something else to say. He waited until Andrew was a yard away before opening his mouth.

“I really couldn’t figure it out,” he said, faux-casual. “Whether Wesninski wanted to suck your dick or Kevin’s. I think I know now, though.”

“Do you?” ‘Homophobic asshole’ was a language Andrew wasn’t interested in listening to. He vaguely contemplated throwing Aaron over the hood of the car and leaving him there.

“Yeah. It’s yours, right?” he said. “Except I’m not sure that’s all it is. You wanted me to believe that you keep your promises, and now I do. I guess the question is did you make him one, or are you two glued together for another reason?”

“Glued together?”

“He’s always wherever you are,” Aaron said, quietly victorious, like that was some kind of feat of scrutiny compared with Andrew noticing his infatuation with the cheerleader. “What, did you think you’re the only one who can make an observation? Are you just getting soft? Tell me it’s not because _you’re_ hot for _him_.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at him. “Someone might think you are, considering how much you go on about him.”

“Don’t let him get too close, brother,” Aaron said. “You were willing to make sure that I kept up my end of the deal. Don’t think I won’t do the same.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t a coincidence that Andrew passed Matt on the way down the hall on Thursday evening. Renee had mentioned that he and Dan were going to dinner together tonight during practice.

Andrew went to the door of the suite he shared with Neil and tapped once. After a second, Neil swung it open with a confused expression. It cleared when he saw Andrew.

“Hi,” he said. Without asking, he stepped back and allowed Andrew in past him before closing the door again. He locked it, too. A few months ago, he certainly wouldn’t have done that with Andrew in the room.

Andrew gave himself a second to look around the suite – he hadn’t been inside it before, but it was the same as the others besides the details. Neil’s desk was covered syllabi from freshman courses, and the chair was pushed back, like he’d been distracted in the middle of studying.

“What’s up?” Neil asked, expectantly. When Andrew looked to him, his gaze was piercing.

He’d said, _I’ll wait on a yes_. And he had, pushing only the same way he had every day since they’d met, not encroaching on the boundary lines Andrew had quietly drawn between them. Annoyingly, he had stayed true to his word. Anytime now, that would stop surprising Andrew.

“Ask me,” Andrew said.

Neil looked very serious, no hint of a smile or smug satisfaction. He said, “Promise me something, first.”

Andrew waited him out – he wouldn’t agree until he heard what Neil wanted.

“Don’t ever put your hands on me if you’re drunk or high.”

That was interesting. “Not if _you_ are?”

“I already know you won’t do that,” he replied, with the certainty that would no doubt one day get him killed. “The same way you should know that I would never do the same to you.”

They were both walking minefields. Andrew should have said, “No,” to everything and left, and found a way to forget everything since Monday night. Since before that, probably.

He said, instead, “Fine. Ask me.”

“Yes, or no?” Neil asked.

He leant back against the wall, putting his body on an almost artistic slant. He stretched his arms out enough to lay his fingers flat against the wall low at his sides, head falling back to expose the curve of his throat. His face was still serious, but there was a touch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t forget to be specific with me. I’m stupid, remember.”

Andrew said, “Yes.”

Andrew stepped into the gap made by his wide stance, an inch of air separating their bodies. He watched Neil’s face for a reaction to being here, when Andrew had seen him freeze like this before, and saw nothing. Then he stepped closer again, closing the distance to a hair’s breadth. “Don’t move.”

Neil was too easy to kiss. He tilted his face to meet Andrew dead on with just a light touch at his jaw. His quick but steady heartbeat bounded against Andrew’s palm. Andrew’s other hand swept down the centre of his chest and back up, all over the skin-warm cotton of his shirt, feeling the subtle shift of muscle underneath.

When Andrew eventually pulled back, mouth hot, Neil’s eyes were hooded and his cheeks lightly flushed. Andrew traced the shape of him through his jeans, feeling him push eagerly into the touch. “Have you done this before?”

His lashes fluttered, but his gaze didn’t waver from Andrew’s. “No.”

He didn’t look afraid. He looked expectant, perhaps feverish, but not desperate. There was no trace of his smart tongue, or the smirk he liked to wear – his mouth was too busy being softly open, an invitation. Andrew drew a finger along the line of his waistband, feeling his abs draw tight in reaction before relaxing again.

“Yes,” Andrew asked, “Or no?”

“Yes, Andrew,” he replied, solemn besides the spark of heat in his eyes. He hissed when Andrew reached past his fly and grasped him firmly.

He was incredibly reactive. Each stroke pulled free a shaky breath or tiny gasp, his eyes closing with the sensation and then opening so he could look back to Andrew’s face.

Andrew wanted to say _it’s just a handjob_. Not because that was what he thought – nothing was _just_ anything, with sex and with the both of them. But because the intensity of him, the noises he made and the shudders and the way he tilted his head for a series of kisses, made it harder than Andrew would have liked to remember that this was nothing but satisfaction for him.

He reminded himself: _pretty face, hot body, and the ability to follow your rules_. _You don’t need anything else for this._

He kissed Neil harder until he couldn’t think of anything except his breathless gasping every time Andrew broke away, and the silky-hot weight of his cock in Andrew’s hand. All those things, and the unwavering set of his hands well away from Andrew’s body – an unchanging promise that he wouldn’t touch without permission.

He came into Andrew’s hand with a soft grunt, biting Andrew’s lip hard enough to sting. He soothed it with his tongue before breaking away, rocking his cheek against Andrew’s so he could breathe through the last of the shudders wracking his body.

Andrew extracted his hand after a moment, leaning back. He looked at Neil’s swollen-lipped, pink face from four inches away, and felt anger bite in his gut. That did nothing to force down his arousal.

“Go away,” he said, stepping back. Neil blinked at him lazily but didn’t ask him to clarify. He straightened and took his hands off of the wall, but slipped sideways so he didn’t encroach on Andrew’s space. Andrew didn’t turn to watch him go, listening to the pad of his feet and the soft click of a door down the hall.

For all a part of him said _just don’t fucking bother_ , his tripwire brain was still replaying Neil’s tiny grunt as he’d come. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his own pants and jerked himself off with a tight fist, quick motions that had him coming while biting into his own bottom lip.

At least after that he was only angry.

Neil gave him plenty of time, eventually reappearing in different clothes and sidling straight to the fridge. Andrew had already raided it, and was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking one of Boyd’s beers. Neil pulled out a soda and popped it open before turning to Andrew.

“You good?” he asked, voice low. Andrew stared back at him, every touch of fury restrained to nothingness. Neil frowned, brow furrowing.

“You didn’t change your mind,” he said, not quite a statement but not all the way to a question, like he really thought he’d have any doubt if Andrew changed his answer to a ‘no’. Andrew didn’t say anything, which seemed to deepen the furrow in his forehead. “Andrew?”

“No,” Andrew said. The word made Neil flinch, the pause following it draining a bit of blood from his face. It was probably bad that Andrew felt satisfied by that. “I didn’t change my mind.”

Neil’s gaze, which had been sinking steadily in the direction of the ground, shot up to Andrew’s. After a moment, he said, “Okay.”

There was a hard knock at the door that made them both jump. Neil flicked the spilled soda from his fingers and sent Andrew a look before he went to get it.

It was, of course, Kevin. He sounded irate. “Are you coming to the court?”

By the surprised look on Neil’s face as his eyes flicked to the wall clock above Andrew’s head, he’d lost track of time. “Yeah, of course.”

“Do you know where the hell Andrew is?” Kevin asked. Neil swung it open so that Kevin could see Andrew standing in the kitchen. Kevin frowned at the sight of him but there was no spark of understanding in his face. That was unsurprising.

“Hurry up,” he told them both, and turned on his heel. Neil watched him go.

“What a dick,” he said, half annoyed and half amused. “You coming?”

“You walking?” Andrew replied, voice flat. He dropped his half empty can on the counter and walked straight out the door after Kevin. Neil scuffed into his shoes and followed at a trot, closing the door behind him. Andrew listened to the jingle of keys as he joined Kevin in front of their door and started towards the elevator. Neil pushed through the fire door with a thud and started down the stairs.

He beat them to the ground floor and led the way across the parking lot, more energetic than anyone had a right to be going to a third practice for the day. Kevin was a few metres behind him, and Andrew trailed at the back with a clear view of both.

They were within metres of the car when Neil paused mid-step, his head snapping up. He said, “Do you smell that?”

The wind shifted, blowing the scent he’d caught back to Andrew’s nose. It was the distinctive reek of gasoline, harsh in the back of his throat. Kevin stopped in his tracks.

The can of soda crashed onto the asphalt, spilling everywhere with an audible hiss. Neil pivoted on his heel, took three steps, and crashed straight into Kevin in a tackle that would have made his old defensive coach proud.

The two of them hit the ground just as the car exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x
> 
> Next: Wymack tries to deal with the fallout.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had some Technical Difficulties.

He’d said to Andrew: _I’m not a bomb that’s going to explode in your face_.

Neil had been wrong. It happened so fast.

One second, normality – or as close to it as possible with Neil still feeling the ghosts of Andrew’s hands on his skin, satisfaction mixed up with the roaring adrenaline of touch.

The next second, Hell.

Neil, deaf and blind, clutched at Kevin hard enough to bruise. He thought for a moment that he might be burning, the reek of smoke and hot metal thick in his nose. Every exposed inch of his skin felt seared.

Then hands pried them apart. Dazed, Neil blinked his vision back and found himself looking straight into Andrew’s face. His mouth was moving, but Neil couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears. He was bleeding, too, from a cut on his cheek towards his ear.

Neil looked back over his shoulder towards the car, now a ruin of flames and billowing smoke against the night sky.

Time, which had been as slow as molasses, sped up. There was no way that this was an accident and no way that the timing was coincidental. This was Neil Wesninski’s life, after all. He fumbled to his feet, half-dragging Kevin up with him.

“Go,” Neil said, his voice sounding like he was deep under water, his hands set on Kevin’s back and pushing him towards the relative safety of the Tower. It was only when they made it halfway there that Neil realised at least some of the ringing in his ears was car alarms going off.

A brutal cacophony like that was bound to attract the attention of the athletes who lived in the Tower. That the Foxes were the first to crash out of the main doors was the least surprising thing to happen all day. Matt, in the lead, nearly collided with Kevin and then, recognising him, threw an arm around him in support. Renee and Dan were right behind Matt, wearing sleep clothes and matching wide-eyed expressions.

“What the fuck happened?” Dan asked, her voice still thin to Neil’s ears. She already had her phone held to her ear – Wymack rather than the cops, Neil would have bet. “Are you alright?”

Neil hurt dully all over from his collision with the ground, his hands and arms the worst. When he looked down, he saw he’d taken most of the skin off of his forearms and palms, bloody and dotted with gravel. Renee hissed a little at the sight when she followed his gaze. Kevin was the same, and his chin was bloodied from where Neil’s leap had dropped him onto the ground.

They were, however, alive. Neil felt a pulse of nauseating relief rip through him at the thought.

Things happened quickly after that. Someone had already called the emergency services, which showed up in a barrage of sirens and lights. They confined the rest of the inhabitants of the Tower to the building, including most of the Foxes. Dan was the exception – she wouldn’t leave the three of them, and put up a hell of a fight when the cops tried to make her.

Neil and Kevin were made to sit at the back of an ambulance to have their grazes cleaned. When the EMT asked Andrew to sit she was ignored – Neil took the wad of gauze from her hand and shoved it into Andrew’s. He stared at it for a moment before pressing it to the cut on his cheek that was still trickling a little blood.

Wymack’s car screeched into the lot, and he appeared a moment later with an expression of ruthless focus on his face. It transitioned subtly to relief at the sight of them like he really had no idea what state they were in. Neil thought guiltily of the last time he’d gotten a call like that – it was Columbia, after Drake.

He stopped in front of them, looking from face to face. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’re all in one piece.”

“None of these assholes would talk to the cops,” Dan said, levelling her glare at them. She hadn’t appreciated having to cover their asses by answering the questions she could while Kevin copied Neil and Andrew’s stony silence, that was more than clear.

Wymack looked unsurprised. Rather than wasting his breath on them, he turned away and waved down a cop, grilling him with his questions instead.

Neil’s arms still stung from being cleaned with sharp-smelling disinfectant, and his entire body was sore and tight. He suspected that Kevin, who he’d landed mostly on top of, felt worse.

Neil looked down at his phone, looked up, and then looked back down. After a second, he laughed. The sound made everyone look to him bar Wymack, who was deep in conversation still.

“I’d love to hear what you find funny,” Dan said, her voice forbidding.

Neil held up the phone, which showed the current time – 12.23 a.m. on Friday, January 19th.

“Happy birthday to me,” he quipped. She and Kevin stared at him blankly for a long moment. “What? You thought this was a coincidence?”

Wymack had requested extra security for the Tower and stadium since Neil’s interview, which seemed to have deterred the usual Raven fan responses of spray-painted death threats and broken windows. Explosions were perhaps not too extreme for them, but this was professional work, down to the timing. They were hurt, but not badly – this was meant to frighten Kevin and Neil both.

Riko had been bound to respond to Neil’s brazen words somehow. This wasn’t that far, for him – after all, they were still alive.

It remained to be seen whether this was just the beginning. Neil felt like he was running through the same cycle over and over, near miss after near miss, each coming closer than the last. If the next was only an inch closer than this he would survive it, but it was getting a little too near for comfort. Not just for him, either.

“You could sprain your ankle and I’d be wondering if it was really an accident, at this point,” Dan replied. “Happy birthday. Get inside, if the EMT is done with you. We’ll talk about this later.”

The EMT in question waved them off, looking happy to be rid of them. Kevin led the way inside, his gait stiff. He was going to be hellishly sore in their game tomorrow – Neil hoped that Dan was already considering reprising her role as a striker sub because he doubted that he would feel much better.

The rest of the team were gathered in the lobby waiting, a clump of anxious faces that all turned when the doors opened. Neil had thirty seconds to feel warm inside about them waiting together as a team. Then Aaron moved from his spot on the outskirts of the group and crashed straight into him fists-first.

Neil, surprised, couldn’t catch himself in time to stop going over backwards. Aaron landed on top of him on his knees, his hands tangled in Neil’s shirt, knocking every particle of oxygen out of his lungs.

“Do you even fucking care what you being here is costing us?” he asked, his voice pitched low but no less vicious for it. He didn’t give Neil a chance to answer anyway, driving a fist into his mouth instead.

The next second, Aaron was gone, bodily wrenched off of Neil. Coughing, Neil tried to push himself upright. Just before he gave up, hands grabbed his arms and helped to get him there – Renee, her jaw tight and concern written all over her face.

Andrew had thrown Aaron halfway across the room and then followed. He had him pressed up against the wall, hand to his neck. Behind them, Nicky looked caught between stepping in and knowing that it was pointless.

“Andrew,” Neil said, his voice rasping as he dragged air back in. He’d bitten his cheek hard enough that his mouth was half-full of blood.

There was no way, logically, that Aaron could best Andrew in a fight. That shouldn’t have prevented him trying, though. That he stood there with Andrew’s hand tight around his throat and didn’t even struggle meant something.

Perhaps not to Andrew, though, who still looked like he meant to choke the life out of his own brother.

“ _Andrew_ ,” Neil attempted again. That didn’t even earn him a glance.

“I warned you,” Aaron said to Andrew, his voice tight but clearly audible. He must have been getting some oxygen into his lungs, then. “I warned you that letting him stay was going to destroy everything.”

“I didn’t realise you had such strong feelings about the car,” Andrew said, his tone silken.

Neil considered spitting, remembered the carpet, and then swallowed the taste of copper in his mouth instead. “He doesn’t care about the car. He’s pissed about your face.”

Andrew looked to Neil, and then back to Aaron. He was silent, but his gaze was a prompt that included both of them.

“He thinks I’m going to get you killed,” Neil continued. “You, specifically.”

“I don’t need to be protected,” Andrew replied, the statement addressed to no one in particular.

“Don’t you?” It didn’t look as though Aaron had been expecting any agreement from Neil – both twins turned to look at him at the same time. “Or is it just his protection, in particular, that you don’t want?”

“I’m sure he can do better than _yours_ ,” Aaron snarled, jerking in Andrew’s grip like he wanted to hit Neil again. “Don’t act like you’re doing us a favour by trying to play mediator, here. This is about you. You _are_ going to get him killed. You think that any of us buys that this was a coincidence after you ripped into the Ravens on live television last Friday?”

“No. I know that even you aren’t that oblivious,” Neil said.

Aaron’s eyes were burning, locked onto Neil and too angry to be worried about his dangerous brother even when he was right there and a very real threat. Maybe at some point he’d learned not to be afraid of Andrew. “Do you even fucking care? Or are you incapable of giving a shit about the collateral damage your little fight with Moriyama is causing?”

Before Neil could answer, Andrew let go of Aaron and stepped back. He said in German, “I seem to recall that you don’t care very much about whether or not I’m alive. What a change of heart.”

“I still fucking hate you,” Aaron snapped, hand to his own neck. His skin was red, but Neil doubted it would bruise. Andrew had made a promise to his brother, too. “But I don’t want you dead. I never did.”

“How sweet,” Andrew replied. Aaron was losing his attention, and by the look on his face he knew it – to him, Andrew and disinterest went hand in hand.

He said, “‘ _Stay here and I’ll keep you alive.’_ You made that deal, remember? Don’t you think that keeping it requires you being alive, too?”

Andrew, whose gaze had started to drift, looked back to him as if drawn into it. “If you think you’re going to win this way, you’re wrong.” Because there was still Katelyn, hovering in the wings and ready to step back in if Andrew relented enough to give her a chance.

“This isn’t about winning,” Aaron replied. “This is about you. _Staying_. Because I already told you that I would. So maybe you’re the one who isn’t prepared to keep up your end of the bargain.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, dark eyed. Neil wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them share a look of understanding until now. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen them look at one another at all – his brain could only immediately provide images of them very pointedly looking away.

Wymack, who’d at some point entered the lobby, interrupted with, “What the fuck is going on here?” He sounded his usual version of weary and furious.

Neil touched a hand to his mouth, checking for blood, and it came back clean. It might swell, though.

Andrew, his expression returned to passivity, said, “Just chatting. Did you want something, Coach?”

“Yeah. _You-_ ” he pointed at Neil, “-need to give me one good reason why we aren’t cancelling the game tomorrow. Because the board is going to be pressing for it – slashed tires and graffiti are one thing, but car bombs are another entirely. We can’t put a stadium full of fans at risk like that.”

“You can’t cancel it,” Kevin said. “It’s a championship game. If we forfeit, it’s too much of a risk that we won’t get enough points to progress to the next round.”

“Yeah, and if someone gets _killed_ at one of our home games I can’t promise that the ERC won’t strike us straight out of Class I anyway,” Wymack replied. “One good reason, Wesninski. _One_.”

Neil’s brain was racing. “Do they know it was a bomb? I mean, it could have been accident.”

“The entire car was doused with gas. If you’d spoken to the cops, you would have known that. But trust me, there’s no way that anyone thinks this is an accident. The question in their minds is who was the one who planted it.” The Foxes knew exactly who’d done it, but any proof was most likely cinders. Neil resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

“The press have been hounding us since the UT game, so give them something to talk about,” Renee suggested suddenly. “Say we suspect that it’s Raven fans messing with us again – they have enough in the past. Put it back on them in public. It’s not as though Neil didn’t already suggest to the entire world that the Ravens are problematic. We can play on that to ensure they back off.”

Everyone but Andrew and Neil looked at her in surprise – she was wearing her sweetheart face still, but those words were from someone a hell of a lot harder than that. The others weren’t quite as familiar with that woman as Neil had come to be.

“We get our game, and annoy those assholes into the bargain,” Allison said after a moment. “I like it.”

“You would,” Matt said. “Coach?”

With the attention of his entire team on him, Wymack crossed his arms and looked back at them. “I’ll put out a statement in the morning – no doubt there’ll be reporters begging to hear about it anyway. There’s going to be even more security on campus from tonight onwards though, and if one of them gets even a sniff of something going on, the game will be cancelled. The season isn’t more important than the safety of you lot and the other students.”

They could only nod their agreement to that, even those of them who didn’t agree.

Wymack checked his watch and then sighed. “Get your asses to bed. Andrew, I’ll take you to pick up a rental car when I have time.”

Andrew, already halfway across the lobby, waved over his shoulder in acknowledgement but didn’t look back. His departure galvanised the rest of the team into following, albeit at a distance. Kevin and Neil were the only ones who hung back, even when the others threw them glances as they left.

Wymack stood there watching the two of them – when Neil glanced at him, he merely waved a hand to go on.

Kevin cast his father a careful look. He had listened to Jean’s warning about the main branch too. He muttered in French, “You don’t think-”

Neil shook his head. “You don’t think Riko is capable of this on his own?”

A year or so ago, the answer would have been no. Now, though, Kevin had seen far too much of the true extent of Riko’s sociopathic tendencies to disagree. After another glance to Wymack, he turned and followed the others.

That just left Neil and Wymack. Wymack said, “We’re going to need to talk about this a little bit more at some point.”

“I figured,” Neil replied. “You let me know and I’ll be there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next: the Foxes play Belmonte.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for mentions of non-consensual drugging.

Neil’s phone woke him up the next morning before his alarm got the chance.  When he managed to find it under his pillow, he blinked blearily at it until the screen resolved itself into a text alert from Wymack.

Apparently he, Kevin and Andrew would be excused from classes today in the lead up to the game tonight.  As Neil stretched under the blanket, he found himself grateful: he was stiff and sore after last night, and couldn’t help thinking his armguards and gloves were going to be hellishly uncomfortable over the mass of grazes on his arms.

Matt’s alarm went off then, a blare of noise that made Neil jerk and then groan. Matt rustled around for a second to flick his alarm off and then rolled off of the bed with a thud.

There was no immediate sound of him getting up afterwards. Wondering if he’d injured himself – the last thing the Foxes needed, at this point – Neil leaned over the edge of his bunk.

Matt was lying flat on his back, entangled in his blankets. When he saw Neil looking down at him, he grinned. “Happy birthday.”

Neil stared back at him for a long moment. “Thanks?”

Matt’s smile turned to a frown. “Is this gonna be like the Christmas thing again?”

“The Christmas thing?”

“Like you’ve never celebrated it before and you’re going to spend the whole day looking confused by it.”

Neil didn’t think that was how he’d acted over Christmas, but Matt did almost have a point – Neil hadn’t ever really celebrated his birthday before. A year ago, he’d turned eighteen with the knowledge that legal adulthood wasn’t going to earn him any new freedoms. The year before that, he and Jean had been in the middle of plotting to remove someone from the Nest permanently.

He couldn’t remember a time where he’d enjoyed his birthday. Even before his recapture, his mother hadn’t cared at all except that she’d managed to keep him alive for another year.

Neil said, “Probably.”

“Hey, at least this year we get to show you a good time,” Matt said, recovering his cheer as he finally picked himself off of the floor. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“I’ll be fine for tonight,” Neil said. Matt opened his mouth but Neil interrupted him with, “Coach said the Andrew, Kevin and I can skip class today.”

Whatever Matt had been planning was derailed. “Unfair!”

“Have fun,” Neil said, a little bit smug. “I’m going back to sleep.”

He rolled over and lay listening to Matt grumble while he got ready until the door closed behind him. Unfortunately, now that he was awake he couldn’t stop replaying last night – the moment of instinctual awareness of something being off in the parking lot, the pressure and noise of the explosion itself, and Andrew’s face above his against a background of smoke and night sky. After tossing and turning for an hour, he gave up on sleep and got up to go and check on Kevin.

With classes underway, the Tower was just about empty. Neil didn’t have to worry about attracting attention as he went down the hall to the cousins’ room and knocked lightly at the door.

After a minute, it opened. Andrew, his cheek swollen out of shape around the cut from last night, stared at him blankly for a long moment.

“Is Kevin in there?” Neil asked eventually. He hadn’t thought to feel awkward about last night until that moment, but he suddenly did.

“At Abby’s,” Andrew said, and then turned away. He left the door open behind him, so Neil followed him in.

By the time he’d closed and relocked it, Andrew had dropped into one of the beanbag chairs in front of the television. There was some kind of soap playing on mute that Andrew stared at, though he didn’t seem to be tracking what was happening on screen.

Neil eyed the other beanbag chair and then decided that in his current state he might be stuck in it if he sat there. Instead, he sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor a few feet away from Andrew, feeling the stretch in his thighs and hips.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the screen for a long moment in silence before he pulled out his phone and sent Kevin a text.

_Are you okay?_

It took a few more minutes of watching two cookie-cutter blondes arguing soundlessly onscreen for the reply: **_I can play._**

_Not really an answer_ , Neil sent back.

That he didn’t get a reply to that wasn’t very surprising. Neil finally looked up to Andrew, who didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m surprised you let him out of your sight.”

“Wymack came for him,” Andrew replied. The words sounded heavier than normal – Andrew’s voice wasn’t expressive now that he was sober, but right now it was particularly dull.

That distracted Neil from his preoccupation with Kevin. “Are you alright?”

Andrew didn’t answer or move at all. After a second Neil knelt up, ignoring the pain of leaning on his abraded palms, and crawled around so he could sit between Andrew and the television.

For a long moment, Andrew stared right through him. Then, finally, his gaze focused on Neil’s face so their eyes met. There was no trace of the anger there from last night, or whatever it had been that Neil had caught a blinded glimpse of when Andrew had bent over him in the aftermath of the explosion. He looked as blank as his voice.

Neil knew perfectly well that that didn’t mean anything. “Are you angry with me?”

It wasn’t as though he didn’t have a reason to be. Neil had promised to try and fix things with Aaron, but he couldn’t seem to stop pitting brother against brother in ways he’d never anticipated. That had culminated with Andrew’s hands around Aaron’s throat, in direct violation of Andrew’s promise of protecting him.

He blinked at Neil lazily. “Why would I be?”

“Should I recite the entire list?” Neil replied. “It’s not that long, I guess. Your car. Kevin. Aaron.”

Because Kevin had been in the line of fire last night, too: all because of Neil. He was fucking up, and he wasn’t sure how to stop. He wasn’t sure, either, how to turn Andrew’s expression from what it was now back to the quiet intensity with which he’d watched Neil fall apart under his hands.

So he did the same as he always did – looked for a soft spot, and then exploited it.

“Want a free hit?” he said, with a smirk. He knew that Andrew wouldn’t take him up on it. He also suspected Andrew might want to.

Andrew’s hand shot out and curled into the front of Neil’s shirt, jerking him closer. “You don’t need to offer. If I want one, I’ll take it.”

“Guess you are the man who claims he doesn’t want anything,” Neil said.

Something sparked in Andrew’s eyes, not quite anger but not far off of it. “I wouldn’t push right now if I were you.”

“You aren’t me, though.”

“No. I’m not a reckless wretch determined to walk a tightrope unraveling from both ends.”

“Not what your brother implied,” Neil said.

Andrew’s grip got tighter, pulling Neil’s collar in around his throat – another warning against taking the conversation anywhere near Aaron. Neil wouldn’t get another. “He doesn’t know anything.”

Neil hummed. “I don’t know. I think he’s figured out that you and I are the same kind of man.”

“You don’t have a death wish, either,” Andrew said, though his gaze implied he was wondering, based on that last comment. “You are determined to play the same games as your enemies, but I don’t know that you’re prepared to go far enough to win. Maybe that’s close enough to a death wish to be the same thing.”

“If you really think that, then you don’t have any idea of what I’m capable of,” Neil said. “I -”

Someone knocked at the door. Neil started at the sound, but Andrew didn’t. He was the one who went to answer it, standing in a movement quick enough to force Neil back.

Without him that close, Neil found he could breathe again as he crouched on the floor. The interruption was probably timely – with extra distance, Neil thought that what he’d been about to say would probably only complicate things further. It didn’t pay to have any more dead men between the two of them.

Renee was standing on the other side of the door when Andrew opened it, her phone in hand. Her expression was deeply serious: she looked straight to Neil, and he instantly felt cold uncertainty stir in his gut.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Renee said. “But Neil, you really need to see this.”

 

* * *

 

Renee wasn’t the only Fox who’d returned to the Tower – half the team was gathered in the girls’ suite. Nicky was perched on the couch with a laptop on his knees. In fact, as he looked around, Neil realised that it was only Matt, Aaron and Kevin who were missing.

“What’s going on,” Neil said, more a demand than a question.

Nicky opened his mouth, closed it again, and then looked pleadingly at Dan. Their captain’s expression was grim and furious, her dark eyes fearsome.

“Someone put a video of you online,” she said, unwillingly. “From Evermore.”

Neil’s thoughts, which had been racing, ground to a halt. “What?”

“It’s probably easier to just show you,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he replied. Dan and Nicky exchanged another look, and then Nicky turned the laptop around to face Neil and pressed play. It was small enough on the screen that he had to walk closer to see it properly.

The video could have been shot anywhere – no one but Ravens went into the dorms in Castle Evermore, so what was recognisable to Neil wouldn’t be to anyone else. What was unmistakeable was that it was Nathaniel Wesninski in front of the camera and that he was definitely under the influence of either alcohol or drugs. He could barely stand up straight.

“Oh yeah,” Neil said. His voice sounded strange out loud – too casual, maybe. “I remember this one.”

Not because he remembered anything about that night. He did remember being shown the footage afterwards, though. On screen, he laughed silently and threw his arms around the neck of an unidentifiable man, his head tilted up like he wanted to be kissed. If he recalled correctly, that was pretty much the theme of his particular video.

Andrew said from behind him, “Turn it off.”

His tone didn’t sound casual at all. Nicky moved very quickly to shut the laptop. Neil found himself staring at its closed lid for a long moment until he came back to himself.

There were worse ones. Right now, he didn’t dare think of the content of those. “Who posted it?”

“Someone with the username ‘RavenFan0102’,” Allison sneered from where she leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed. “But I doubt it’s a genuine leak, considering. They don’t have any other videos in their profile.”

Neil swallowed and then nodded. The following silence was eventually interrupted by a thump at the door, which Renee went to investigate. It was Wymack, with a blank-faced Aaron behind him.

Wymack looked around the room. “I presume you’ve all already heard, then.”

No one answered him. After a moment, he sighed. “We’re working to get it taken down, but the reporters knew about it before I did. Made for some awkward conversations, I can tell you.”

Neil winced – Wymack would have gone to make a statement about last night and been bombarded with questions about the video instead.

“Is there anything else we can do? I mean, surely it’s – illegal, or traceable, or _something_ ,” Dan said, arms crossed. She looked like she wanted to find someone to fight.

“It’s fine,” Neil said, in an attempt at placating her. “I knew that they had footage like that. I knew there was a chance it would leak.”

“It’s not fine.” Allison was white-faced with fury. It took Neil a moment to figure out why she was so angry: she had a history of video and photographs of her being made public against her will, thanks to the public obsession with her.

“It’s not that bad, comparatively,” Neil said. It was a statement meant to comfort them, but by their faces it missed the mark. “They have a limited amount of footage to use if they want to publicly humiliate me without implicating themselves. I’m underage in most of it, and Riko always liked to get involved – his face is just as distinctive as mine.”

He wasn’t interested in going into more detail – it was bad enough knowing they’d all seen what they had. His skin was prickling with spikes of electricity.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reiterated, his tone far more firm than he felt. “Coach?”

Wymack had been watching him carefully in silence, but he shifted when Neil said his name. “You’re staying with me until this blows over. Andrew, I’ll swap with you.”

Neil had forgotten about Kevin for a second – none of this was helpful with his goal of keeping him here with the Foxes. Andrew waved Wymack off anyway.

“He’s Abby’s problem until the game tonight,” he said, leaning back against the wall by the door. Neil looked from him to Wymack and moved as though to join the latter so that they could leave. He was perfectly happy to not spend another moment here.

A hand reached out to encircle his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Before he thought about it, he grabbed back – hard enough to bruise, his nails digging into delicate skin.

Nicky squeaked, “Neil!”

Neil let go just as quickly, taking a large step back. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped, his voice coming out sharp enough to cut.

No one seemed sure of how to react – they looked at him like he was a feral dog that had just bitten someone. All of them stood in a frozen tableau for a long moment until Wymack broke the silence again.

“Neil, we’re leaving,” he said, and turned to do just that. Neil followed him, ignoring the eyes of his teammates on his back as he left.

He was still a dangerous creature to them, and not just in terms of getting caught in the fallout. He flexed his fingers at his sides as he followed and felt the zing of pain from his grazed palms, not sure whether he was grateful to have provided that timely reminder.

Typically, this birthday was going the same way as all the others.

  

* * *

          

Walking onto the court that evening, Neil felt frozen to the core. Wymack had gone easy on him, really, but he hadn’t been able to avoid the truth – he would do what he could to keep Neil at PSU, but he was a scholarship athlete who had signed that he wouldn’t do anything to harm the reputation of the school. The publicity his presence had won the Foxes wasn’t enough to mean that a car bomb and now the video didn’t have him on thin ice with the school board.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter how desperate he was to stay here. If he couldn’t stop fucking up, then he’d be out on his ass with no hope of being signed onto another college team. And that, for him, was a death sentence.

Despite the events of the night before, the stadium was still full to the brim and as raucous as ever. They screamed loud enough to lift the roof in greeting, a typical home crowd in near-fluorescent orange.

Neil didn’t want to be here. He hurt all over. He felt like his heart was crushed down in his chest – but not like he was afraid. Like he was nothing but a black hole on the inside, instead.

He remembered being nothing. After all these months it had come right back to him the second Nicky had pressed play on that video.

If he had the chance, he’d throw his racquet down and run until he couldn’t anymore. It was only having the other Foxes at his back that kept him there at all, without a single shred of the bravado from their game against UT.

Even that was barely enough when the court doors were slammed and locked behind the last player onto the court.

Neil’s backliner mark was relentless, too. Not in terms of gameplay – Neil could run rings around him. But he wouldn’t shut up with comments that Neil couldn’t quite tune out, despite the fact that Neil didn’t reply to a single one.

That was probably because they were working. By the time the buzzer for the half sounded, they were drawn three-all, but Kevin may as well have been the only Fox striker on the court.

Renee, who was ready to come on in Andrew’s place for the second half, sidled over him as he sipped water and kept moving to keep his body loose when every muscle felt like setting concrete. She didn’t speak, just hovered nearby. For the first time in months Neil found her presence more unsettling than relaxing, but he didn’t ask her to leave. He knew perfectly well that he would be no better alone.

He had a new mark for the second half, whose approach at getting to Neil was completely different. She was physically aggressive rather than psychologically, looking to pin Neil into an awkward spot in the same way other players had early on in the season. Apparently the Terrapins had done their research on their opposition, the same way the Foxes had. It shouldn’t have been a successful tactic, not anymore, but Neil started to slip into his old defensive way of playing trying to avoid her.

He was successful through the first ten minutes of the second half, to the point where he started to regain confidence again. He felt like he’d barely touched the ball as it passed from Kevin to Allison almost exclusively, but as soon as he felt able to connect passes he called out to Kevin in French that he was there and waiting.

It always happened the same way. At twenty minutes, Neil was finally actually playing like he should have been, and then a split second of inattention cost him. Ball in his net, he bolted up the outside of the court and at the last possible moment threw. He saw the goal light up red, felt the too-close presence of his mark at his back, and realised he was out of space.

Neil, too quick to stop in time and too slow to evade, hit the wall shoulder-first and then was crushed an instant later as his mark hit his body and his racquet at the same time. She pulled away, arms already up for the referees – she’d hit him within the allowed two seconds, and even Neil couldn’t tell if it had been a deliberate move or not.

He crumpled down onto the court in the aftermath, the breath driven out of him and every hurt reasserting itself at once. His racquet spilled from his nerveless fingers.

He should have been used to playing in pain. Apparently, he’d forgotten how to since leaving Evermore. That and everything else washed over him at once, an unstoppable wave of fear that tore through every failing coping mechanism he relied on.

Neil looked up for his own teammates and was unable to make sense of who he was looking at when he couldn’t decipher jersey numbers or even team colours. The court walls were going watery, the mass of orange behind them blurring and blackening as he struggled for control.

Everything was a weight on top of him, crushing him into the floor, and he was nothing, nothing, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The hit rate for this fic is unbelievable, I don't know who you are but I hope you're enjoying this! <3
> 
> Next: Betsy and a bunch of phone calls.


	36. Chapter 36

Neil lay in his bed and listened to the same song over and over again, loud enough that he couldn’t think.

He couldn’t afford to think. Thinking meant remembering the way he’d fallen to pieces across the court floor on Friday night, leaving his team to pick up after him. Thinking meant considering the aftermath, the fact that everyone in the world was saying his name and _failure_ in the same breath. Thinking meant having to consider whether he was making all the wrong moves in a game he’d always been destined to lose.

Thinking was him going around and around in circles inside his head until he was spinning on the spot.

_Not_ thinking meant being nothing. And right now, curled in on himself and feeling his heart beat dull and heavy in his chest, being nothing was preferable.

He had a half-second warning there was another presence nearby before his duvet was wrenched off of the bed, nearly pulling him with it. Disoriented, he ripped out his earbuds and looked straight into Andrew’s expressionless face.

“Get up,” he said. He’d made it all the way into the room without alerting Neil – it must have been the feel of his weight on the ladder that’d triggered his awareness. That should have felt more dangerous than it did.

“I don’t-” Neil started. His voice came out rough and blank. His attempt at rendering himself thoughtless had worked well enough he couldn’t even string a full sentence together.

“You have an appointment with Bee,” Andrew said. “I’m taking you.”

He seemed unbothered, perhaps a little irritated that he’d had to climb halfway into Neil’s bunk to get his attention. Neil lay on his side and stared at him for a long moment, trying to summon the energy to get up.

Andrew watched him back, and then said, “You have two minutes.”

That was generous, coming from him. Neil hadn’t seen him at all over the weekend while he’d been bounced between Abby’s house and Wymack’s apartment, never alone enough to get lost. He had been living with Allison’s too-casual normality, Renee’s gentleness, Matt’s goodwill, and Dan’s easy acceptance, and all of it was harder to bear than Andrew Minyard’s impassivity.

Maybe that was because Andrew didn’t give a shit about the Belmonte game, about Exy in general, and potentially about Neil himself.

“Ten seconds,” Andrew warned. Neil counted them down in his head and thought that the process felt familiar. Like he’d been subconsciously doing the same thing every day for a while now.

“Zero.”

Neil didn’t move. He was paralysed, his strength stolen from him by full-body fear.

Andrew’s hand reached out and curled around the back of Neil’s knee, shockingly hot through the fabric of Neil’s sweats. Then he started to drag him across the mattress towards the edge of the bunk.

Neil’s other foot snapped out and came to rest just below the hollow at the base of Andrew’s throat, the weight of it pushing him backwards. He felt Andrew’s one-handed grip on the edge of the bunk tighten hard enough his palm squeaked against the wood as his body tilted out into empty air.

Neil said, quietly, “Let go.”

He’d earned the full force of Andrew’s considerable focus with that, his eyes fixed on Neil’s face. He said, “You don’t think I’d drag you down with me?”

“I’m not the one afraid of falling here,” Neil replied. “Let. Go.”

Andrew’s hand loosened and lifted away, but he didn’t move. After a second, Neil withdrew his foot and sat up. The bolt of adrenaline at being touched had broken through something in him, leaving him shaking but able to move again.

“Self pity doesn’t become you,” Andrew said, watching him inch across the mattress under his own power without moving back.

“Get down before I push you off,” Neil replied, almost nose-to-nose with him. It came out flat and non-threatening, but he meant it. Andrew climbed back down immediately, probably more out of self-satisfaction than fear. He’d come here to galvanise Neil into action, and he’d achieved that.

Neil didn’t care much about looking put-together for his brief appearance at Reddin, but he needed a change of clothes that weren’t stale with sweat and fear. He dug out a spare pair of jeans and a clean shirt, not bothered enough by Andrew’s presence to make him leave the room.

Andrew scrolled through his phone while Neil changed his pants, but he watched lazily as Neil stripped off his shirt. He was a mess of scars underneath it, a patchwork quilt that whispered of a hard life from the iron-shaped print on his shoulder to the tracery of thin white lines all over his back. Most of what he’d arrived at Palmetto with had faded to a few red and pink scars that overlaid older, paler ones.

He considered telling Andrew to keep his eyes to himself and then gave it up as a bad job; the physical marks were just the start, and it wasn’t as though Andrew didn’t know that. He pulled on the clean t-shirt, grabbed his shoes, and walked out of the bedroom. Andrew’s footsteps followed him a moment later.

Andrew had at some point picked up a rental car to hold him over until his insurance money came through, and Neil followed him to it in the parking lot. He waited until they were heading along Perimeter Road to say, “Did Wymack send you?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied.

“Why?”

“Presumably he thought you wouldn’t show otherwise.”

“I meant why did he send you.”

Andrew shrugged. “You would have to ask him that.”

Neil dropped his head back against the rest, his curiosity already run dry. The rest of the short drive passed in silence. Andrew pulled into a spot near the main doors of Reddin, and Neil climbed straight out.

The sound of another door opening made him look back. Andrew was climbing out of the driver’s seat and locking the car behind him.

“Don’t you have class?” Neil asked.

“No,” Andrew replied, joining Neil on the footpath. “You’re going to be late.”

He followed Neil all the way up the internal stairs to Betsy’s floor. She was waiting in the mouth of the hall leading to her office. She smiled at the sight of Neil and looked unsurprised by Andrew’s presence.

Neil looked back at him. “Are you inviting yourself in here as well?”

Andrew held his gaze as he dropped himself into one of the chairs in the waiting area in a relaxed slump. Maybe he thought Neil was going to bolt out mid-session and make a break for it.

Neil turned his eyes away, and let Betsy lead him through into her office. She took her place, and Neil took his. She looked him over like she could pick what he was feeling just from his face. She probably could – he was done pretending he was inscrutable.

“Tell me what happened on Friday night,” Betsy asked.

“You were there.” Neil’s voice came out sounding dead. “You know what happened.”

She had been the one Neil came back to on Friday night in a darkened corner of Abby’s office, the smooth familiarity of her voice buoyant enough to bring him up again out of his own head. She’d left her seat in the stadium for him, just another person going out of their way because of him.

He didn’t deserve that care.

“I don’t know what you think and feel,” Betsy said. “Tell me in your own words.”

He wasn’t sure he still had any words. The Foxes had ended up losing to the Terrapins by two points, with Dan forced into playing striker while Neil attempted to get a hold of himself.

A loss at this point in the season was difficult. A home loss was worse. It put the Foxes in the awkward position of needing a high-differential win against SUA this week, and for UT to win their game against Belmonte the same night, to send them through to the death match. The psychological effects on the team were unmistakeable – they were already under immense pressure without making this game a must-win.

It was all on Neil. The Foxes were good enough to have won, easily so, and instead they were now thrust into a must-win game with a player who they once again couldn’t trust to hold up.

It was always him, screwing up over and over. He said the most straightforward truth he could think of. “I had a panic attack.”

Betsy didn’t comment on that, but her silence was a prompt in itself. Her gaze through her glasses was calmly evaluating and as patient as the hills.

“It was just…everything,” Neil said, and then shrugged in frustration. “You know.”

“I do,” she said. “I understand that a video of you from your time with Edgar Allen’s Exy team was made public on Friday.”

“You haven’t seen it?”

“I would never presume to watch it without your permission,” Betsy replied. “It’s a violation of your privacy.”

“It’s just another thing that happened to me,” Neil said, voice coming out clipped. “You can watch it if you want. I’m not interested in talking about it.”

Betsy’s head tilted. “You sound angry.”

“I’m not.” _I’m nothing_. “But if I was, I’d have plenty of reasons to be.”

“You have plenty of reasons to be angry,” she acknowledged. “But you don’t have to be angry at yourself, Neil.”

Neil shot her a look. “I can do better than that. I _have_ been better than that.”

“Having a setback like this is very common, and nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a normal part of the recovery process,” Betsy said. “The stresses that you are under only add to the likelihood of that happening – especially considering the events of last week. You’ve made very good progress, but remember that it’s only been a few months. It takes time.”

“I don’t have time,” Neil said. “I need to be able to play this Friday or our season will be over.”

Thoughtlessness and the blinding oblivion of being nothing wasn’t enough to shield him from that truth. He was running out of time and waiting for the second where everything finally caught up with him.

He thought he could feel the ice cracking under his feet, but he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t already drowning.

He said, “I don’t know what to do.”

It hurt on the way out, more like prodding at an infected wound than the clean pain of a fresh cut. Betsy, who wore her usual expression of calm acceptance, finally frowned at the sound of such obvious desperation in his voice.

“I know that you were initially very sceptical of what I could do to help you. Do you think that what we’ve worked on so far together has been useless, or do you agree that you’ve benefitted from your sessions?” she asked.

“I _thought_ they were working,” Neil replied. He should have learned not trust himself by now.

“The way I see it is that the mechanisms I teach take practice,” she said. “Let me put it this way: when you first learned to play Exy, you would have done a lot of drills on ball-handling skills, but the stress of your early games probably would have made you forget those skills in the heat of the moment. But the more practice you got, the more those skills become second nature. The skills you learn here are no different.”

Neil had learned most of those skills under the threat of death too, so he supposed that she was right about it being the same. “So you want me to do more of the same.”

“That would be my professional suggestion,” she replied evenly.

“Do you really think that’s going to work? Because I don’t think the ‘stress’ is going to go away anytime soon.”

“My concern is your health and success. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it would work,” she said. “Of course, there are also options involving prescribed medi-”

“No.” The idea of taking anything, even something meant to help him, turned his stomach. The Evermore video had reminded him of the sickly taste of a drugged drink more than ever.

“That’s fine,” Betsy continued, unmoved by the sharpness of Neil’s response. “You’re in control here, Neil. I’m just here to guide you and make you aware of all of your options.”

“I didn’t realise there were that many options,” Neil said. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

“There are always options,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. When Neil just stared back at her, she went on, “Neil. You’re going to be fine. You just have to keep going.”

He didn’t have a choice. Maybe that was the frightening part – knowing that the alternative to moving forward on his current path was accepting that he was done for. Knowing that even moving forward might not save him. A shred of him wanted to stay in this tentative standstill anyway, like numbness could be the same as acceptance.

That last wasn’t a familiar feeling. He had always been the type to keep moving, to value keeping his life over any actual quality of it.

_Keep going._

Betsy was right. And in the aftermath of Drake, she had made Neil an offer. He’d shrugged her off at the time, sure that she couldn’t do anything for him, but he was no longer in any kind of position to turn down assistance.

“Betsy,” Neil began. “I think I might need your help with something.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Neil made it out of Betsy’s office, the waiting area was devoid of the bored blond he’d left behind. Neil was pretty sure Andrew wouldn’t have left him stranded there, so he headed straight down the stairs.

As he walked, Neil pulled out his phone and powered it back on. It was a habit he’d taken up after getting tired of it constantly buzzing with texts during his sessions with Betsy. There was the usual collection of texts – the Foxes were so far doing a good job of pretending as though nothing had happened on Friday night – and one voice message.

Frowning wearily, Neil called his voicemail service. After the robotic voice told him the time of the missed called, twenty minutes ago, it went silent until a man’s voice broke it.

“ _Nathaniel, this is Special Agent Brown-”_

Neil hung up so fast he nearly broke the end call button on his phone. Clearly, the FBI were keeping tabs on him and the other Foxes, if they’d gotten word about the ruckus on Thursday night. However, there was nothing Neil wanted to hear less right now than Browning’s speculation about what Neil had gotten himself into.

The Moriyamas were too close for the FBI to start sniffing around now. That was a line Neil definitely couldn’t afford to cross. He saved the number – just in case – but deleted the message.

That message and his discussion with Betsy prompted him to search a number he hadn’t called since before Christmas. He came to a stop on the landing and leaned both elbows on the railing. From there he could see through the narrow gap between staircases down to the concrete a few floors below him.

“Long time, no word,” Phil Higgins said in place of a greeting.

“You were the one who said you’d keep me in the loop. Maybe I got tired of waiting,” Neil replied.

“Is ‘tired’ the right term? ‘Impatient’ might be a better one,” Higgins said. “By the way, I thought you said you liked to deal with things _before_ they became problems. Because it looks like you might be having some serious ones.”

“I didn’t realise I was making headlines in California, too.”

“There’s this thing called Google Alerts, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. My life has been considerably more exciting since I set up your name as one.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day,” Neil said dryly. “You’re right, though. I have been having a few issues. I’m wondering where you’re at with yours.”

“Guess that means yours and mine are connected after all. I can’t say I’m surprised,” Higgins mused. “You were right, by the way. Your boy hasn’t just been greasing the wheels in my neck of the woods – he’s throwing money from New York to Seattle, and he isn’t all that smart about covering his tracks.”

“Have you got a name?”

“Yeah, but I’m not stupid enough to say it in the middle of the department, or over an unsecured line.”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust that you’ve got the right person, then.” This was a waste of Neil’s time if Higgins wasn’t good enough at his job to prove that Riko was behind everything.

“Asking for my help and then maligning my abilities? That’s cold, kid.”

“Just in case you’ve forgotten, you did let me down once before,” Neil said. “And yes, I am cold. Remember?”

Higgins was quiet for a moment. “I’d forgotten, but thanks for the timely reminder.”

His tone was rueful. Neil liked Higgins in some ways, but he still felt a bubble of anger in his gut at how Higgins had said he wanted to protect Andrew before failing so spectacularly. “You’re welcome.”

“It won’t be long before the information starts to go public. I won’t be able to keep your name out of it. Or his.”

“I never thought you would.” Neil didn’t care that he would be embroiled in still more controversy – this would be the truth, even if it got messy. He was more reluctant about Andrew’s involvement, but he recognised that there was nothing he could do about that. Going by his reaction to the incident itself and ensuing media coverage, Andrew probably wouldn’t care anyway. “Give me a warning if you can.”

“Don’t call me, I’ll call you,” Higgins quipped and hung up on Neil.

Neil stared down at his phone until the screen went black without really seeing it. That was all the pieces in play, he supposed, from a department of corrupt cops to a court in West Virginia and ending with a scrap of paper he’d folded into Andrew’s hand.

He’d made Riko a promise. Dead or alive, he intended to keep it.

At ground level, a fire door opened and then slammed. Movement below drew Neil’s eye and for the second time that day he found himself looking straight down to meet Andrew’s gaze.

Clearly, Neil was taking too long, and Andrew had come back to collect him. Pocketing his phone, he turned away from the drop and clattered down the stairs to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Next: Andrew makes a deal.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Iris](http://exyfexyfoxes.tumblr.com/) who called out my children for being short like five times while editing this.
> 
> Minor warning for casual references to sexual assault and vague homophobia.

Andrew kept finding himself on the edge, looking down, and he wasn’t sure he had what it took to step back.

On one hand, he had a dangerous sociopath – the real deal, not like Andrew himself – breathing down their necks and making Andrew’s promises so much more difficult to keep. On the other, he had Neil Wesninski, with his truths and scars and eyes that promised to pull Andrew apart and find out how he worked. With his cautious hands and his welcoming mouth and the threat of his foot against Andrew’s throat, a fall at his back.

Andrew thought he left suicidal behind in Cass Spear’s house. It made him angry that Aaron’s blind insinuations might be right out, because Andrew knew exactly the kind of danger Neil posed and hadn’t driven him away.

Except he wasn’t sure that he _did_ know the full extent of that danger. The ten seconds of shattering clarity where Andrew had thought him and Kevin both dead after the car bomb hadn’t been enough to figure it out.

Neil was a problem that mutated every time Andrew thought he finally had him pinned down. Neil had gone from afraid to fearless and back again, from oblivious to eager to how he was now – like his crown of thorns had extended across the rest of his skin, making him untouchable.

Neil was resolute, resigned, and Andrew hated that as much as he hated the man himself. Not as much as he hated his own uncontrollable reactions to Neil, though: those made Andrew want to hurt him instead.

Andrew contemplated making him leave. He wondered how difficult it would be, and what the likelihood would be of Neil surviving it.

Wymack had given him some valuable advice at the beginning of the school year: _don’t make any mistakes you can’t come back from_. Andrew wasn’t sure if he was on the brink of making that mistake, or whether he’d made it weeks or even months ago.

He remembered the feeling of holding on hard enough his entire body felt the strain of it despite desperately wanting to let go. Even if he hadn’t, this entire year was day after day of reminders.

He told himself over and over, _all of this is nothing._ He had no promises to keep Neil, nothing binding them. Nothing.

Andrew remembered being nothing, just as clearly as he remembered everything else.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, both of their broken birds became distracted over Kengo Moriyama’s hospitalisation. Kevin was undoubtedly so because of Jean Moreau, but Andrew couldn’t pick whether Neil was for the same reason, or whether it was out of some delayed sense of self-preservation.

Andrew had watched the videos of Riko being interviewed, and he knew anger when he saw it, even accompanied by a smile. After the last week, it was perfectly believable that Neil might be a target of that anger.

That wasn’t Andrew’s problem, though.

Aaron was kept up the charade of brotherly bonding by climbing into the passenger seat of the rental car for the drive to Reddin that afternoon. His throat hadn’t bruised under Andrew’s hands but he hadn’t said a word to Andrew since.

He didn’t need to. Andrew’s brain did it for him – he couldn’t look at his brother without hearing _so maybe you’re the one who isn’t prepared to keep up your end of the bargain_. As though Aaron had any idea how to uphold a deal.

He seemed expectant still. Andrew wanted to break that in him, infect him with Neil’s resignation. He wanted replace it with the same black-eyed understanding from the eve of Neil’s birthday, make his years of keeping Aaron this close worth something. He wanted to say _nothing, you’re nothing to me_ and let go of him at last. And Aaron’s continued silence through Andrew’s sessions did nothing to ease any of that.

The Foxes’ third game of the opening round of the championships came around quicker than the others seemed to ready for. Andrew had stretched himself no further than he ever did in practice, but he watched from the goal as the rest of the team clash against one another over and over, offense against defence, until they could hardly move.

It was pathetic, the amount of effort they poured in. Especially considering that their moving on to the death matches relied more on the results of the other two teams playing than that of their own match.

The drive to SUA’s campus in Arkansas was long and unexciting, with an added tension in the air that was centred on Neil’s seat between Nicky and Allison. Halfway through the trip, Kevin went to join him. Andrew could just make out their rapid French, but that didn’t last long. Kevin wasn’t frightened when he came back, but he looked irritated as he thumped into his own seat.

If Andrew thought about it too long, he was angry with Kevin, too. He turned his face away, trying to let the blank sameness of the view crawl inside.

After their stop for dinner, they arrived in time for the team to walk laps around the court. Renee fell in beside Andrew at the back of the crowd, a quiet presence who kept checking her phone.

The fifth time, Andrew said, “Problems in Raven Country?”

He’d noticed Renee texting Moreau since their game in Texas. That Renee would want to take him under her wing was unsurprising, the sob story that he was, but that he deigned – or was courageous enough – to text back was another matter.

She hummed. “They won their game yesterday.”

Andrew knew that. It was hard to miss, sharing a dorm with Kevin and his obsession. “I suppose they’re celebrating then.”

Renee edged him a look. “Raven celebration isn’t particularly kind to all members of the team.”

Andrew didn’t bother with a response, not least because he still didn’t care about Jean Moreau. Renee didn’t seem to expect one anyway; she put her phone in her pocket before saying in a lighter tone, “Did you finish The Handmaid’s Tale?”

Renee’s taste in books varied widely, but her love of dystopian fiction was notable. Andrew nodded and let her draw him into conversation about the book until Wymack called them off of the court to prepare for the game.

SUA’s stadium was full for the night despite their team’s double losses this round, and predictably rowdy. Changed out, warmed up and waiting for the warning buzzer, Andrew let the sound fade to white noise and observed – watched Kevin stare at the court like it was his salvation while Nicky and Aaron bickered quietly at his side, watched Dan watch everyone else, watched Renee looked into the middle distance as she prayed. He wondered if that prayer was for Moreau or for them tonight.

He shifted his focus, interest lost. There was nothing about the court that Andrew didn’t hate, clean and lit up by the dazzling overheads. He’d walked onto it because it was better than the alternatives, and the association between it and a tentative loosening of the leash was burned into his mind.

That had only been compounded by hours in the Fox goal sick and fighting everything their opponents could throw at him, with anger like bile in the back of his mouth. It was the only explanation for why he could look at it now and think about freedom rather than seeing another cage.

Neil, harried and pale, pushed into the line between Nicky and Andrew, ignoring Nicky’s squeak. Neil might have forgotten the ferocity with which he’d repelled Nicky’s touch, but Nicky clearly hadn’t – he backed out of Neil’s way, giving him plenty of space.

“Can you shut them out in your half of the game?” Neil rushed out in a murmur. His head was bowed but his gaze was very direct.

“What makes you think I can?” Andrew replied, tilting his head as though in thought.

Neil managed a flat and unamused look. “ _Will_ you shut them out?”

“Not for free.”

Neil looked away in the direction of the court, and then back to Andrew. “What do you want?”

Andrew countered, “What would you give me?”

“Whatever it takes,” Neil said, a blank truth that was different from _I’ll owe you_. That had meant _I trust you not to ask me for something I can’t give_. This meant _I’ll give you anything_. This was a man who’d break his own fingers for a win, and probably Andrew’s too.

“Your desperation is boring,” Andrew observed, and ignored Neil’s flinch. “I’ll think of something.”

His mouth was still pinched flat, but there was no mistaking the relief that flashed across his face. He nodded once and then turned to take his place next to Kevin at the front of the line.

Watching Neil on the court – watching the Foxes in general, for that matter – was watching the triumph of stupidity over logic. There was no way that any of them should be taking their places out there and waiting for the buzzer. Even Neil stood like he wasn’t shattered and shaken to the core – stupidity, or blind commitment to a cause that kept betraying him. They were the same thing.

Andrew was used to that feeling now, too.

SUA had nothing to gain tonight by winning except the knowledge that they would be putting this upstart team in their place at last. That was clearly their goal from the beginning – they were aggressive but far less skilled than UT or Belmonte, making up for that shortage with risky checks that earned them yellow cards and the Foxes penalties.

For the first time since Monday night, Neil didn’t move like he thought the sky was going to fall in on his head. He played like this was his last chance to show everyone what he had on the court, like this was a battle and his life was on the line.

Andrew felt his jaw tense and consciously relaxed, forcing everything down. _This is nothing_.

Aggression aside, SUA was still a few points behind at half time. They didn’t have the skill to really test the Foxes, who were in some ways better when they hit their second wind.

That wasn’t what the others cared about. Wymack pulled them in when they came off for the break.

“UT won against Belmonte,” he said, voice intent. “That means that they’ll be going through to the death match. Belmonte’s score was only six – that brings their total over the last two games to fifteen. Keep playing like you are and we’ll be going into the next round with our points ratio.”

Kevin looked like he was doing the mental arithmetic to determine how many goals he needed to score personally to see them through. Neil, meanwhile, stared fixedly at the television in the corner without actually seeing it, breathing in a familiar rhythm. He looked lost.

Andrew saw Renee sidling up to him before he turned away, devoting his focus to stretching instead.

The warning buzzer called them back to the court, this time with Andrew at the rear of the line behind Aaron and Boyd. He took up his spot in the goal, resting his racquet against the ground. The Foxes weren’t going to need his efforts tonight, but he’d made a deal and he intended to keep it. He watched as SUA sent on fresh strikers as well as a big defensive dealer to bolster their backline, and thought that they were wasting their time.

Closing the goal against them was the easiest thing he’d done all year, but no less satisfying for the way the crowd railed against him from the other side of the Plexiglass. The SUA strikers, whose fellows had scored four in the first half, suddenly found themselves turned away at every opportunity.

They were sloppy. They deserved to be kept scoreless, considering how little they made Andrew work.

At the other end of the court, Dan and Kevin were chipping away at the points they needed, not quite in sync with one another but smooth and practiced even so. When Dan and Neil swapped out, that changed: whatever else could be said about the two ex-Ravens, there was no failure of communication between them on the court.

The defensive players went for Neil, predictably, but they were slower than the Terrapins – they didn’t stand a chance against Neil’s raw speed, nor his aggression. Andrew saw Wymack pacing on the other side of the wall when he was awarded a yellow card barely ten minutes into his second stint in the game.

The buzzer went off on a ten-four victory to the Foxes, sending the team into relieved hysteria. Andrew, exempt because they knew by now not to bother with him, watched them spin each other around.

There was one other player who skirted the edge of the celebration, submitting only to the odd slap on the back and shoulder. Number 10 was first off the court, shoulders slack like a weight was off of them.

Andrew didn’t change slowly, dressing at the usual rate and then sitting on a bench to wait. The others said nothing about that as they finished and filed out, used to Andrew behaving inexplicably.

Neil, always slow to shower, emerged fully dressed only after everyone else was already gone. He clearly didn’t expect anyone to be there waiting – he flinched when he caught Andrew from the corner of his eye, spinning to see him properly. When he realised it was Andrew, the tension drained from him.

“You already think of what you want?” he asked, shoving his gear into his duffle where he’d left it collapsed half-full in front of a row of lockers.

Andrew stood, leaving his bag behind as he closed the space between them. It was interesting to watch Neil’s reaction as he walked closer, torn between instinctive defensiveness and the welcome that Andrew remembered from a moment on the couch in the Foxhole Court.

Andrew stopped in front of him, one shoulder to the lockers so that Neil wasn’t closed in. He raised his fingers to his jaw but paused before he touched. “Am I going to lose a hand?”

Neil’s eyes narrowed like he heard a thin edge of mockery in Andrew’s honest question. “Maybe.”

Andrew was used to that. “I thought you were happy to be touched. Isn’t that what you said? ‘I’m not damaged, anyone can touch me’.”

“That was an invitation to you, not your cousin. I don’t trust him. If _you’re_ asking, then the answer is yes.”

Andrew’s fingers, which he’d left in mid-air like a warning, fluttered outside of his control. Then he palmed Neil’s jaw, fingers pressing into his cheekbone, and angled his face down. Neil’s breath shivered out of him at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. For all he looked sharp, he softened under Andrew’s hands in a way that made Andrew’s jaw ache as his teeth ground together.

Andrew’s kiss was savage, his teeth biting at Neil’s lower lip hard enough he swore he could taste copper. It tasted like anger. He felt like it was all there just under the surface, burrowed beneath his skin and waiting for an opportunity to break free.

His other hand curled around Neil’s neck, closing over his nape. It wasn’t until he felt the tracery of his under his fingers and Neil tense that he remembered the distinctive scar he wore there.

Neil broke away. “Not there.”

Andrew released him instantly. “For a man who said he isn’t damaged, you do have a lot of places in need of warning signs.”

It was designed to wound, and Neil reacted accordingly, his bright eyes intent. “For a man who claims to care a lot about boundaries, you seem intent on pushing mine tonight.”

Andrew’s other hand lifted off at that, though their proximity remained distinctly intimate. Neil had his hands pressed to the small of his back, far out of reach of Andrew’s body – he reached down and took his wrists, ignoring the way his fingers passed over the curve of Neil’s ass without really touching.

Neil let himself be moved, let Andrew press his open palms to either side of his own neck and then squeeze in warning before letting go.

“Just there,” he said, his hands going to Neil’s hips. Before Neil could reply, he kissed him again, stealing any words he might have had with the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue.

Between Neil’s palms, Andrew felt as though his own pulse was stronger in his ears. Neil’s skin was very hot, rough against the softer skin of Andrew’s throat. After a moment, he pushed his fingers into the soft strands of hair at the base of Andrew’s neck – not holding, just feeling.

Andrew felt tension creep into the muscles under Neil’s hands, crawling through the skin. It wasn’t the touch – it was the gentleness, too much in contrast with the wild feel of their mouths meeting. Andrew’s control shivered, a ripple that passed through his body and echoed in his hands, making him grip tighter at Neil’s sides to still them.

Neil, feeling that, pulled back.

He stayed in place, bare inches away, seemingly waiting for Andrew to wrench his hands off of him. When that didn’t happen, he asked quietly, “Is it my boundaries you’re pushing, or your own?”

Andrew wasn’t sure he had an answer for that question. Before he had a chance, he heard the scrape of a sneaker against the linoleum from behind him. He pivoted, hand to the sheath on his opposite wrist, and then paused.

Aaron stood in the doorway and for once it really was like looking in the mirror – everything was wiped off of his brother’s face, turning his eyes to stone. That didn’t shift when he opened his mouth to say, “I knew you two were fucking.”

There was disgust in his tone. Andrew felt his skin tighten in response, felt the thread of tension in his neck start to boil at the base of his skull. It was a familiar feeling. It felt like the line between control and the loss of it, a crumbling edge under his toes.

“I thought that breaking deals to get your dick wet wasn’t a problem you had,” Aaron commented. He looked almost amused, if you didn’t meet his gaze. That turned the twist to his mouth sickly instead.

“I guess that’s one of the ways we’re the same,” Andrew replied.

“Oh, no. We aren’t the same. Not unless you’re going to tell me that your Raven-trained whore is somehow important to you.”

Neil’s breath hissed inwards through his teeth. “ _Don’t you fucking call me that_.”

“But am I wrong? We all saw that video – you can’t make me believe it didn’t go further than that.”

“You don’t know anything,” Neil snarled back, fire in him again at last. He was a pulsing presence at Andrew’s back, all fury like he’d rend Aaron limb from limb given a second of opportunity.

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” Andrew said, as though Neil hadn’t spoken. _Nothing, nothing_. Neil didn’t flinch.

“Then prove it,” Aaron said, almost generously. “Get rid of him. The way you should have months ago.”

“Fine.” He flicked Neil a glance over his shoulder. “Get out.”

Neil went. He almost made it to the door before Aaron said, “You know that’s not what I mean. Did you lose your nerve? Because I don’t remember you being so squeamish before.”

“He’s not going to kill me,” Neil said. He sounded certain, under the bright anger in his voice.

Aaron smiled. He hadn’t looked away from Andrew yet. “Are you sure about that? I doubt your ass is _that_ good. And hey, if it is, then Riko will be pleased to have you back.”

Andrew remembered lying flat on his back almost foot to foot with Renee after sparring one day early on in their acquaintance, sweat on his forehead and dampening his shirt, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The habit of talking when they were like that, bodies worn out and perhaps a little broken because neither of them knew how to hold back, was hard-won.

Renee had a habit of picking up the conversation from their last session like they hadn’t gone days or weeks between. So it was no surprise when she said, seemingly apropos nothing, _if you don’t believe in a higher power, what is it that you believe in?_

Saying _nothing_ would have been a lie. He’d answered, _truth. Promises. Human nature. Take your pick._

This was all three in one man, or maybe two. Andrew moved, already feeling blood on his hands.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken his own brother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x
> 
> Next: 
> 
> He said, “Please.” He didn’t recognise his own voice.


	38. Chapter 38

Neil knocked lightly on the doorframe of Wymack’s office, startling him at his desk. The door itself was open, but he obviously hadn’t been expecting any visitors despite that.

“Sorry,” Neil said. “Can I talk to you?”

Wymack looked him head to toe and nodded. “Come in.”

He had to shift piles of folders to make a space for Neil to sit. He explained, “We’re doing shortlists of players for next year.”

Neil nodded. “Kevin said you were doubling the line.” He and their coach had been spending time together outside of practice to do it, and Kevin came back looking less tense each time. Knowing Kevin, not a word was actually spoken about their relationship or their options going forward, but his creeping relief was clear even so.

Neil said, “You should look for an extra striker.”

Wymack’s gaze had drifted back to the open file in front of him, but at that, it shot to Neil’s face. “Excuse me?”

Neil didn’t say anything. Wymack slapped the folder shut and sat right back in his chair, looking Neil over while he clicked his pen insistently on the desk. After a long moment of quiet, he said, “You signed a five-year contract.”

“I don’t think the school board will take that much convincing to release me from it, at this point,” Neil said. “You said so yourself.”

Wymack’s mouth twisted. “And what is that you’re planning to do with yourself instead?”

“Does it matter?” Neil asked with a tight shrug.

“Neil.” Now Wymack looked irritated. “Don’t be evasive. You know it matters. If you leave the Foxes, where are you going to go?”

“I hadn’t got that far yet,” Neil said, because that sounded a hell of a lot better than _the grave, if I get that lucky._ The possible choices were to find another team, run until he couldn’t anymore, or give himself over to the Moriyama’s non-existent mercy. He didn’t care – he just couldn’t stay here.

“Are you telling me that you’re done, then? Because you know that’ll take us out of the rest of championships.”

“I’ll stay until the end of the year,” Neil said quietly. He hadn’t gone this far with the Foxes to let them down like that now. He couldn’t bear the thought. “After that…”

He couldn’t bear the weight of Wymack’s stare, either. He wanted to sink through the floor. His coach said, “The rest of the team won’t be happy about you leaving. Kevin, especially.”

Neil could think of at least two Foxes who’d be eager to see the back of him, at this point. “He’ll cope. So will the rest of them.”

“I can contact some other schools, see if anyone has a spot for you. Striker or backliner.”

“That’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

“Neil.” His eyes had slid to the pinboard on one wall of the office, covered in newspaper cut-outs from the Foxes’ season, but they snapped back to Wymack’s face at the command in his tone. “Tell me what this is really about. I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what the problem is.”

“Do you really have to ask?” Neil said, his voice coming out rougher than he liked.

“Specificity is always helpful. You have plenty of issues to choose from,” Wymack said, and then, when that got no reaction, “Do you really think that you’re the first Fox to have a bad few weeks?”

“It’s not just a few weeks. And I think that I’m in a league of my own,” Neil replied flatly.

“Trust me, you aren’t. I survived Andrew fucking Minyard’s freshman year, and yours isn’t that much worse.”

“Mine isn’t even done yet.”

Wymack shifted in his chair. “Do you actually want to leave?”

Neil’s gaze was resting on the wall somewhere over Wymack’s shoulder. “That’s what I’m telling you.”

“No. I think you’re telling me that you _need_ to. They aren’t the same thing.” Wymack leaned forward to rest an elbow on the desk and Neil finally looked to him again. His brow was furrowed with concern and something else that Neil couldn’t quite identify.

Neil thought about staying. He thought about Matt and the girls, their fierce protectiveness and their warmth. Andrew’s touch, his warm steadfast presence, and his expression last night when Neil had thrown himself into the brawl to pull him and Aaron apart. Him saying _he doesn’t mean anything to me._ Aaron spitting blood in his brother’s face, teeth red with it. He said, “It doesn’t fucking matter.”

He meant that, down to his core. He let Wymack see that from his face, alongside his desperation to stay and a sleepless night’s worth of resignation. Wymack’s mouth twisted again, but this time he didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to talk to Andrew,” Neil said.

Wymack had ordered the entire team to stay apart this weekend, though he’d mostly meant Neil, Aaron and Andrew. With Andrew confined to Wymack’s apartment and Aaron disappeared from the Tower entirely, that had been an easy promise to keep.

Except that Neil had no intention of going on that way. He had to fix the problems of his own making, and he had questions to ask.

“I don’t think you can fix this one, Neil,” Wymack said. He looked tired now as well. Neil was sick of feeling like he was the reason for that expression.

“It’s my fault. I have to try.”

“No, it isn’t your fault. Both of them are adults who make their own decisions, as whacked out as those decisions might be. And this was always going to happen eventually,” Wymack said. “They were never going to be able to carry on like they have been. Something had to give.”

“I know,” Neil said, because he did. “I just…”

Aaron had made a gamble; Neil had been able to read that from his face. He certainly knew how to hit Andrew where it would hurt – Neil, too. But for all he was intelligent, he was rash in a way Andrew wasn’t, and it had backfired in his face. He’d forgotten, like they all did, that Andrew bled the same colour as the rest them from under his countenance of stone.

Neil had honestly thought that Andrew might kill Aaron. It’d taken half the team, their attention drawn by the noise, to split them up. That the two of them had only ended up bruised and bloody was because the Foxes were quick, and Neil was quicker.

He was bruised, too – blue over his ribs where Andrew had hit him, once accidentally and once intentionally, and worse on his back where Aaron had turned on him. That was minor compared to the blank look Andrew had given him afterwards, the one Neil had lain awake all night trying to understand.

Right now, Neil was struggling to understand anything to do with Andrew Minyard.

“You know, you’re surprisingly optimistic about some things,” Wymack observed. “You thought that they would be able to sort out their differences. You might be right, eventually. But Aaron is unpredictable and Andrew more so, and they’ve been ships in the night for years.”

They hadn’t exactly been able to hide what the fight had been about – Andrew and Aaron wouldn’t say a word, but Neil had unwillingly muttered the truth to Renee when she’d sat next to him on the drive home and held an icepack to his back. He doubted that she’d mentioned anything to the others, but she would have told Wymack, if he hadn’t guessed already. And Neil had a feeling that he had.

“You sent Andrew to make sure I went to Betsy on Monday,” Neil said, because it was at least question someone could answer for him. “Why?”

"Because he’s invested, and as far as I can only tell he’s the only one capable of making you do anything,” Wymack said, tilting his head.

“Invested?” That wouldn’t have been the word Neil would have picked, though now that he thought about it and considered their complicated series of promises, maybe it was accurate.

“Neil. Really.”

“How did you figure it out?” Because that meant he’d known well before last night about whatever it was the two of them had been doing.

“I have working eyes and half a brain,” Wymack said, with the shadow of a smirk. “Also, if there wasn’t something going on there, then one or the other of you two would be dead by now.”

That was probably true. Neil had given Andrew plenty of reasons and more opportunities. That he hadn’t taken them was strange, when he sounded so sure telling Aaron Neil was nothing to him last night.

He stood, feeling tension he hadn’t even noticed slip out of him as he finally got to move again. A murmur of Riko’s voice called him _runner_ amongst the rush of white noise inside his skull.

“You got a way to get over there?” Wymack asked.

“I have the rental car,” Neil explained. Andrew had slipped the key into his pocket as they brushed past one another in the parking lot of the Foxhole Court last night before they were split up. Neil could feel the weight of it now, another silent contradiction, as he turned to leave.

“Neil.” Wymack’s voice made him pause in the doorway, though he didn’t look back. “I don’t own you, and I respect your freedom to make your own choices because I know you haven’t been afforded that in the past. But you are a Fox. The way I see it, we have a few more months to convince you to stay.”

Neil swallowed down the sting in his throat. All he could say was, “Okay.”

It took him until he hit the fresh air of the parking lot to remind himself that he was inconvincible. It was drizzling and drab outside, and he jogged to the car both to keep warm and for the tiny shot of adrenaline. After the sleepless overnight trip back, he felt as though his bones were melting inside him.

It was a short drive to Wymack’s apartment, where Neil focussed solely on the unfamiliar car he was piloting. The stairs of the building were more inconvenient than those of the Tower, tucked around the back so that Neil had to go searching. The irritated distraction was better than what lurked underneath – the fact that Neil was here to face Andrew, but had no idea what he wanted to say.

He couldn’t imagine that Andrew was interested in an apology. He wasn’t entirely sure that he had one to give anyway, for all that he carried a portion of the blame.

The truth was that he wanted answers, but he wasn’t sure of what questions he needed to ask.

Up on Wymack’s floor, Neil let himself in through the unlocked door, swinging it closed behind him. The hallway was dark, which it almost always was unless Wymack was expecting guests fancier than the Foxes. Neil trekked through it quietly towards the lounge and the uncomfortable couch he’d spent the night when he first arrived at PSU. It felt a little like coming full circle.

“Andrew?” he said as he turned through the doorway, and then ground to a stop.

Later, the memories would be fragmented into snapshots. Jackson’s smiling face. The overturned coffee table, papers spilled over the floor. Andrew, bloody from a split eyebrow and on his knees, his hands together over the delicate curve of his skull. The gun pressed to the back of his palms, black and familiar.

It didn’t matter how long he was away from it – a day or a month or longer. Violence was Nathaniel Wesninski’s birthright and, for the first time, it had come to him.

“What the fuck do you want,” Neil said, not really a question, right before the muzzle of a handgun prodded the back of his neck.

“If it isn’t Junior, all grown up,” Lola’s voice sounded from over his shoulder. “You got pretty. A few years older and you would be just my type.”

Andrew didn’t move or make a sound, but his mouth twisted just enough to bare a sliver of his gritted teeth.

“We thought we were going to have to use your friend here as bait,” Jackson said, holding up a phone – Andrew’s phone. “Thanks for making it easy. Shame for him, though.”

He dropped the phone and ground it into the carpet under his boot. It made a series of popping and cracking noises as it gave in. Then he leaned down towards Andrew so he could say close to his ear in a stage whisper, “That makes you extraneous.”

“I didn’t realise thugs like you knew words like that,” Andrew said, his tone as dull as ever as he met Neil’s eyes. Neil watched in slow motion as Jackson drew his hand back and then pistol-whipped Andrew across the side of the face.

He didn’t go down, but he was thrown sideways hard enough that he put one hand on the floor to catch himself.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Neil snarled, throwing himself forwards. Lola caught him around the throat with her free hand to restrain him, quicker than he would have given her credit for. It made the barrel of the gun knock painfully against his skull, but he gritted his teeth rather than make a sound.

“Touchy,” she said once she’d pulled him back. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it quick.”

“ _What do you want_.”

“Just you, sweetheart. The big boss heard that you were slipping your leash,” Lola said, sweet as honey as she cleared his pockets of his keys, wallet and phone and dumped them on the floor at his feet. “All this time we thought you were only in it for the game, but apparently there’s a little bit of Daddy lurking in there after all. Assassinations are proper business. Not your business, though. You _really_ should have kept your nose out of it.”

“This seems a little convoluted for Kengo,” Neil replied through his teeth.

“That’s because Kengo has washed his hands of you. This is all your father,” Lola whispered in his ear. “He’ll be so pleased to see you.”

Free fall.

“My father is in Seattle,” he said, desperation crawling into his voice.

“Oh, no. Nathan is in Baltimore, for now,” Lola said. “Did you really think that you weren’t being watched that closely? Or that your uncle isn’t?”

Neil looked to Andrew despite himself, fully aware that his fear had to be bleeding across his face.

“This has been in the works since way before Christmas, baby. Even big money can’t make the courts move that quick, but now that he’s out and Kengo’s not quite feeling himself, who better to deal with a trouble-making little runt like you?”

Neil’s jaw twitched. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. He was dead and cold in the grave already, for all his heart was still pounding in his temples and throat. The irony of his conversation with Wymack settled over him all at once, as did the reality of Andrew being here, now, with these people. All of Neil’s worlds were abruptly colliding in the worst way imaginable.

He said, “What about him?”

“Your buddy? We’ve got out orders to leave Day out of it, but any of the others – they’re just collateral damage,” Lola replied. “What, do you care? Would have thought Mommy taught you that that isn’t a good idea.”

“Not exactly subtle, though, is it?” Neil asked, with a note of mocking as he imitated her cheery madness.

“Neither was the car bomb,” she answered, which sent chills down Neil’s spine. He was so fucking _oblivious_. He deserved this. “We really thought that you’d run after that, but you’re braver than I remember. Or stupider. It would have been so much easier to snatch you off of a roadside somewhere; you remember how that goes, don’t you, Nathaniel? But anyway, we’ve got you now.”

She pointed to Andrew. “Unfortunately for him, that means that he has to die. Maybe a murder-and-run. They’ll believe that – I’ve heard all sorts of things about your misfit team, and everyone in the world knows that you’re a killer. Especially when you disappear for good.”

“What do I have to do to get you to leave him be?” Neil was experienced at making deals with devils. He didn’t have anything to bargain now, and he was acutely aware of that, but he had to ask.

“You could try begging,” Lola suggested, mock-generous.

Neil had said to Andrew months ago _please isn’t a pretty word for people like us._ There was something sickening in knowing the person asking you to say it had no intention of actually relenting, that they were so intent on hurting you it didn’t matter what you said.

He was familiar with that feeling.

He said, “Please.” He didn’t recognise his own voice.

Lola laughed against the back of his neck. “Tell you what, baby. We won’t kill him in front of you, seeing as you asked so nice.”

“Generous,” Neil ground out. “Get it over with, then. You always loved to drag it out.”

“Not like you, Mister Merciful Death.” That Lola considered a stab wound to the chest merciful said more about her than anything else.

“Any last words for your friend?” she asked, her hot breath stirring the hair at his nape still. “They might be a comfort. Maybe.”

There were plenty of things Neil could have said to Andrew, but they were too important to say in earshot of people Neil hated when Neil would probably never see him again. He said nothing instead, knowing all of it would give away the terrible rending feeling in his chest.

Andrew shifted, looked him in the eye, and then opened his mouth where Neil couldn’t. “You owe me one.”

Neil had always prided himself on hearing what Andrew meant through what he said, but he didn’t understand that. Right now he had nothing at all to offer Andrew, if he ever had at all. But that he’d spoken at all meant Neil had to summon up something – anything – as an answer.

“Few more than that, I guess,” he said, his tone halting.

“Just one,” Andrew replied, as sure as death.

“Touching,” Lola said, and then dug a hand in Neil’s hair and dragged him backwards from the room. Andrew watched him the whole way until they lost sight of one another: Neil couldn’t look away either. He stared blindly into the middle distance once they turned the corner until the front door of the apartment slammed shut in his face.

Then, when he was halfway down the hall towards the elevator, hands on him too strong to fight: the still-distinctive sound of a silenced gun going off behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x
> 
> Next:
> 
> “No,” Neil gasped out, his nerve cracking through the middle. “No, no-”


	39. Chapter 39

Fighting was going to get Neil nowhere. That didn’t stop him from trying.

The inside of his head was blank with white noise loud enough to blot out everything else. He forgot every part of what Renee had taught him over the last few months, every delicate shred of control, everything that could have won his freedom.

A hand crushing the back of his neck subdued him. The elevator dinged as the doors opened and Neil’s face was ground into the back wall by Romero, who’d been waiting inside.

“Give me those,” Lola said, and there was a jingle from behind him before he felt a familiar touch of metal at his wrist.

“You make trouble, and I make sure that Jackson goes over to your campus once he’s done and takes out your other friends one by one,” Lola warned as she cuffed his hands together. “You don’t want that, right? And if we see anyone in this building, then you’d better stay quiet if you don’t want to get another person killed.”

_Another person. Another person killed._ Romero’s hand lifted off of Neil’s neck when he kept silent, but Neil stayed at the wall with his eyes closed. He needed it to keep his feet. His heart was crashing so hard in his chest he thought it might give out any moment.

The lift lowered, slowed, and then stopped. Lola said, “Remember, kiddo. Smile and look cute if you don’t want someone to die.”

They turned him and then crowded close enough to his back that his cuffed hands were hidden between their bodies, and made him walk first across the lobby of the building. There was no one there, anyway, and no one in the parking lot either. That was lucky, because Neil couldn’t summon a smile even with someone’s life depending on it.

They had a car waiting in the lot, dark-coloured and inconspicuous. Lola clicked the locks and pushed Neil into the backseat before sliding in beside him. Romero climbed into the front and started the engine.

Lola still had her gun held on Neil across the seat, at the level of his belly. “If you move, I’m going to put a hole through you where it’ll take you a long, long time to bleed out.”

Neil thought about it. Then decided it wasn’t worth it if he didn’t die quick enough. He asked, voice roughened almost to soundlessness, “Where are you taking me?”

“We thought we’d meet in the middle between here and Baltimore,” Lola said, her voice shifting from threatening to cheerful again.

The FBI had to be watching Neil’s childhood home. Neil knew from experience that that wouldn’t mean anything. He thought about a family in a federal safehouse, killed in their beds. Nathan could outstep the feds as easily as breathing, with his own resources and Moriyama money at his back.

Neil really should have listened to that message from Browning.

“Your wrist is going to get sore,” he observed dully. Even halfway between here and Baltimore was a four-hour drive, at least.

She hummed, smirking back at him. “Oh, Junior. You look so miserable. Did someone show you how to care since you came out here? Because I doubt the littlest Moriyama taught you so.”

Neil stared at her. Still grinning, she asked, “Pretty girl, maybe? I happen to know there’s a smoking-hot blonde you’re pretty close with. Even the one with the coloured hair is alright.”

She had no idea. All she knew was money and fucking and murder, all tied up in Neil’s father. In any other situation, Neil would have felt sorry for her. As it was, it just confirmed how long they’d been watching him. How easy he’d made it for them, despite all his planning, despite everything he’d done.

“Or was that your boyfriend you left back there? The one you keep killing people over?” Lola mused, looking for a soft spot. “I hope he appreciates it. Or _appreciated_ , I suppose.”

Neil blinked, slow, and did not flinch. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

It was a challenge. Lola took it. “I talked to Riko about you. Apparently, you turn into a little bitch under a knife. I guess nothing has changed after all.”

Neil didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“Do you know what I’m going to do with you? Well; with your corpse,” Lola corrected herself.

“Have you gotten more original since last time?” Neil asked. He remembered Lola coming into the basement afterwards where he’d been kept before Evermore, pressing into his bruises under the guise of concerned touches while he was too scared to move. How she’d described exactly how she’d broken apart his mother’s corpse so no one would ever know what happened to her. Her saying _no one is ever going to know it’s all your fault, baby. Does that make you feel better?_ Him letting tears slide down his cheeks once he was sure she’d finally left, curled in a corner like that could stop anyone from hurting him.

For a second, he met her gaze across the seat between them. Lola’s smirk grew, but her eyes were level and threatening. She wasn’t truly crazy – she wouldn’t have been so successful at what she did if she was. She would enjoy whatever she did to Neil, and take pride in how good she was at it.

She said, “Junior, you don’t look scared enough yet.”

This time, there were no tears left in him. Not for the Foxes, not for Andrew, and certainly not for himself. This grief felt big enough to consume him, but he didn’t care. It was a purer pain than anything that Lola and the others could inflict on him. Underneath it, like always, was anger; white and obliterating.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Neil said, and meant it. He’d put fear of her aside back in Castle Evermore when he realised that she was hardly one of a kind. Then, to prove it, he went on with, “I’m not scared of a buyable bitch with a gun and a big mouth.”

Lola laughed. “Oh, feisty. That isn’t going to last though.”

Neil turned his face away at last, letting her voice fade from his awareness. It was easy, a skill he remembered from tuning out Riko’s dire monologues as he did whatever the hell he liked to him, or to Jean with Nathaniel helpless to stop it.

They drove half an hour before they pulled off of a back road into a cracked square of asphalt that obviously served as a parking lot for the surrounding industrial complexes. On a Saturday afternoon, it was empty except for one other car.

Romero pulled up and parked parallel to it, nose to tail. He was the first out, walking around to Neil’s side and opening the door. He hooked his hand through Neil’s cuffs and dragged him out while Lola climbed out of the other side.

“Wouldn’t want them tracking our license plates. You can never be too careful,” Lola commented, half-explanation and half-attempt at dashing any hope Neil might have had left. He didn’t bother to tell her that that last was a waste of her breath.

Neil heard the click of the locks disengaging, and the sound of a door opening, but it wasn’t any of the passenger doors. Romeo dragged him around the back of the car instead, and as they rounded the corner Lola’s hands grabbed at Neil’s upper arms, pinning them to his sides.

The trunk was open, black and gaping.

“No,” Neil gasped out, his nerve cracking through the middle. “No, no-”

He fought Lola’s grip on him, spinning around and pushing at her with a strength born of desperation and wrenching Romero’s hand from his cuffs in the process. His hands were still immobilised, but he cracked the hard part of his forehead into Lola’s jaw, making her yelp.

Romero reached over and backhanded Neil so hard that he fell back against the bumper, stunned. With his vision wheeling and no control of his limbs, he couldn’t do anything as the two of them pushed him into the trunk.

The door slammed shut over him, turning everything black.

There was a long and blissful moment where Neil was too dazed to do anything, including think. He could taste blood in his mouth, and feel it running from his nose. Without his hands free to wipe it away, it felt like he might drown in it.

Somewhere in the back of his head, there was a gun going off. Neil stretched against his constraints and felt a keen welling up in his chest. He couldn’t tell if it made it out of his mouth or not – the car roared to life, blotting him out completely.

Just like that, he got lost.

 

* * *

 

It was hours – hours and hours of him thinking he might lose his mind, wondering if he’d already lost it. Fighting for breath until he lost his grip on consciousness or lost his grip in general, his mind going somewhere else for a blissful unknowable amount of time before he crashed back into his body again. Over and over and over.

It was him here and now, having cost himself everything, and then him five years ago, with his mother’s rapidly cooling body. In the dark, it got difficult to tell.

Then, the car stopped. The sound of the engine died. The lack of noise was worse than its presence – his heart started to pound double-time with expectation.

When the trunk was opened, the light seared his eyes, forcing them shut. Even if he’d wanted to fight, he couldn’t – he was still restrained, and his entire body was knotted and cramping.

Someone dragged him out by his shirt, dropping him to the ground. He fell onto his back, crushing his arms under his body weight, and the pain in them ripped a thin cry out of his squeezing lungs.

“Aw, baby,” someone said from over him. Hands on his ankles dragged him away from the car, the concrete underneath him scraping his lower back raw as his shirt pulled up.

 Neil pulled back a foot, freeing it with a savage jerk before he kicked out. He made impact, hard enough to make someone grunt.

“Put the fucking cuffs on him,” Romero warned. Someone complied, the metal searing cold against his ankles, and then weight settled onto the chain between his feet to pin him down.

“Where the hell is Jackson?” he heard Lola ask testily. “He took the direct route.”

As she moved away and her voice faded, Neil opened his eyes, blinking away tears of discomfort and panic. He was in some kind of warehouse – a new one, the concrete blinding white around him with the sun that poured through the Plexiglass roof panels.

Well. At least he’d die in the sunlight. Presuming they killed him before nightfall, anyway – Nathan always liked to drag things out.

The car they’d arrived in wasn’t the only one inside. There was a half circle of them, all dark-coloured, most with Maryland plates. The warehouse was full of Nathan’s guards, some of them familiar even five years later. That wasn’t particularly surprising; most people who left the Butcher of Baltimore’s employment did so in caskets, if they were that lucky. Lola got the rest of them.

Romero was the one with his foot on the length of chain between the cuffs around Neil’s ankles. “You know, when Lola said you’d crack faster in the trunk than you would any other way, I thought she was joking. Pathetic.”

Somehow, Neil felt his upper lip twist into something like a snarl. It made the dried blood on his face crack and flake between his lips.

Romero said, “You aren’t going to be able to run this time, Junior.”

He was right. He was the steadier one of the Malcolm siblings, without his sister’s sing-song maniacal streak, but there was no mercy in his dark eyes for Neil. Neil had always been tied down, but the slack he’d won himself had fooled him into imagining he was free. Now he’d hit the end of the rope hard enough it felt like a hanging.

He was going to die exactly the same way he’d lived: owned, collared, chained.

“He’s forty minutes out,” Lola told the others, dropping her phone onto the hood of the car as she rounded it on the way back. “Said to get started. Hey, Nathaniel.”

Neil looked to her from the ground, his chin scraping over the concrete. She held a knife in one hand, low by her side. He looked at it and knew exactly what it would feel like breaking skin. It wasn’t fear, but expectation didn’t feel all that different.

Seeing where his eyes rested, she smiled. “I’m going to hurt you now. Are you ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry I haven't been replying to all your comments, but I'm a little short on time and also it's quite hard to think of responses to just the word 'fuck' and some key smashing? I love them all though, so thank you!!
> 
> Next:
> 
> “Is he – is he dead?” Kevin demanded.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for discussion of torture and mentions of institutional abuse.

The front door creaked as Wymack let himself in, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps down the hall. Quiet as mice, for two big men, because the second set had to belong to Kevin Day. Wymack’s head poked around the corner of the lounge door, an echo of another person half an hour earlier.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ ,” he said, his eyes gone wide.

“Is he – is he dead?” Kevin demanded, his hand on Wymack’s shoulder to hold him back. Or maybe to hold him there as a shield.

“Not yet,” Andrew informed them.

Andrew didn’t look like much. People always underestimated him. He’d been playing on that since he was thirteen years old and the smallest kid in juvie. Back then had been all about determining who were the biggest dogs in a pack of mangy, half-feral mutts, plenty of noise but not much hurt. This wasn’t like that.

This was life and death. That said; Andrew had always played for keeps.

That was why there was a man tied up on Wymack’s floor in the wreckage of his coffee table, bleeding but not hurt badly enough to be anywhere near dead. Andrew had told him to be quiet or he would kill him. He hadn’t said anything since.

Wymack looked across the room, following the path of destruction. “Is that a bullet hole?”

“Just a misfire. Hope you didn’t need that security deposit back,” Andrew replied.

The gun had gone off when Andrew grabbed the wrist holding it and jerked it aside, putting a hole in the wall across the room. That’d been before he’d taken it, and also before he’d hurled the owner of the wrist to the floor hard enough to stun him.

He knew nothing about guns. This one felt heavy in his hand, but not as heavy as it had felt against his skull. That, undoubtedly, was going to bruise.

“Andrew,” Wymack said, his voice cautionary rather than warning. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do you ever get tired of asking the people on this team to do that? No, don’t answer. That’s rhetorical,” Andrew replied, and then, just as conversationally, “I would like to.”

“Yep,” Wymack agreed, steady as stone. “But you won’t.”

He was right. Andrew held out his other hand until Wymack stepped forward and mimicked the action, and then Andrew put the gun into his palm. Wymack did whatever was needed to make it safe – Andrew had never had the privilege of learning.

Putting the weapon aside, Wymack looked Andrew up and down. “Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

The blood on Andrew’s face was already dry. He’d swallowed the taste of it before when he’d weighed Neil’s abandoned phone in his hand. “No.”

“Where’s Neil?” Kevin asked. He looked grey, with eyes so wide they showed too much white.

“Now that is the question,” Andrew said, looking back to the prone figure on the ground. After a second, Wymack reached down to grab the man’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back.

He was missing a few more teeth than he had been before, and one of his eyes was swelling. He looked straight to Andrew first, and the wariness in his eyes would have been gratifying if Andrew was the type for that.

Andrew looked back to Kevin. “His friend took Neil with her when she left. Do you recognise him?”

He watched Kevin debate lying, and then toss the notion aside. He looked more frightened now. “His name is Jackson. He belongs to Neil’s father.”

“Not Riko?” Wymack asked. He was beginning to look agitated, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Jackson made a low sound like a laugh but didn’t speak, his eyes flickering towards Kevin and then away again.

“He’s a part of Nathan Wesninski’s inner circle. That’s all I know about him,” Kevin rushed out.

“Nathan?” Wymack asked, as though the name was familiar to him. He looked to Kevin as he said it. “I thought he was in prison.”

“Not anymore,” Andrew said. He hadn’t understood all of what had been said before, but that much was clear to him. “Well, Jackson. Where did your girlfriend take Neil Wesninski? She mentioned Baltimore.”

His voice came out robotically, but he didn’t feel like one. Every word from the others felt like pinpricks to his eardrums, nearly overwhelming him. He could still see Neil with that bitch at his back, and the creeping fear on his face as she’d talked to him. His expression when he’d said _please_.

Y _ou owe me one_. Andrew had meant _you’re no good to me dead_ , but right now all he could feel was the blade-sharp awareness of what Neil being dead would actually mean.

At the end of the night, _you’re no good to me dead_ still meant _don’t you dare fucking die_. Neil was good at keeping his promises, but every man had his limits. And Andrew wasn’t on the edge anymore, ready to take a step with that swooping fear of falling.  

He was already at the bottom of the drop, waiting for his buzzing brain to relay the pain.

“You’re Minyard, aren’t you,” Jackson said, the words making blood wash down his chin.

It wasn’t a question, so Andrew didn’t bother answering. Jackson was already grinning, showing the gaps in his smile that Andrew had put there. “If you’re looking for the reason why, look in a mirror.”

“Why would I do that?” Andrew asked.

“Man by the name of Proust,” Jackson replied. “Do you remember him?”

Andrew didn’t forget anybody. The details inside Easthaven had been scarce, but he’d heard it was a mugging gone wrong. The good doctor had bled out in the parking lot of the hospital before anyone even noticed something had gone wrong. Carotid injuries did that, apparently.

Andrew didn’t believe in coincidences. That didn’t mean that he’d thought anything of the fact that the doctor who’d wanted to have him strapped down, who’d run a finger over Andrew’s scars even after he warned him what would happen if he touched him again, had been murdered.

“That brings the total to two, I suppose,” Jackson said. “The other one was for you, too, right?”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Wymack demanded. “Proust?”

“One of the doctors from Easthaven.” Jackson was talking to Wymack, but his gaze didn’t waver from Andrew. “Little Nathaniel has a higher body count that you think. He heard that one of the Easthaven doctors might be going above and beyond the call of duty with Minyard, so he stepped in. Or he had someone step in.”

_Assassinations are proper business. Not your business, though._

“How’s that feel, to have a Wesninski so devoted to you? They’re a rare breed, you know. You must be something pretty special yourself, though, if he was that keen to keep you for-”

His voice cut off with a whimper. Wymack, who’d just shoved his foot into his groin, said, “That’s enough.”

He was grinning, which turned his expression almost unrecognisable. Not because Wymack never smiled, but because he never smiled like this – savage, all teeth, something like what Andrew remembered from the mirror before he’d set foot in Easthaven. They tended to forget sometimes that the coach of the Foxes was cut from the same cloth as the players.

Wymack went on, “I suggest you just answer the question.”

Jackson was going an interesting colour underneath his boot. He gasped through his broken mouth, “Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m not telling you anything.”

Wymack leaned down a little more, eliciting a squeak. “I do think you’re that stupid. Did they take him to Baltimore?”

“You’re dead either way,” Kevin piped up after a few seconds of listening to pained gasping. His eyes still flickered nervously, but his voice came out firm. “You should have been quicker. Whatever you say, you’re going to prison - if you make it that long. Someone will get paid to make sure you can’t talk.”

Jackson’s eyes were rolling back into his head, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t crack, not under blunt force like that – Andrew knew what loyalty looked like. Jackson had a look of a fanatic, the same way his partner in crime had.

Wymack lifted his foot away, his expression all distaste. “As much as I’d like to burst your balls like grapes, I’m not going to.”

“You could let me have him,” Andrew suggested. His fingers were itching. Helplessness had never worn well on him, and these days he rarely tried it on for size. It felt rigidly tight around his shoulders and set his hands to restlessness.

His knives were there to buy life with clean death – he and Neil had that in common – but he could deal out a little pain for the same purchase.

Wymack looked to him and said as though Andrew hadn’t spoken, “I guess you didn’t call the cops.”

Andrew let his silence speak for him. Wymack said, “Kevin. Do it,” and the other man turned away as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Andrew still had Neil’s phone that he’d rescued from the floor once he’d used his belt to bind Jackson’s hands. It’d been switched off, and messages had started to crowd into the inbox as soon as he’d powered it on, though he’d ignored that at the time in favour of calling Wymack. Now, he pulled it from his pocket and scrolled through it.

There were dozens of messages from the Foxes, particularly Reynolds and Boyd, from as far back as Wednesday. The last read message was from Moreau, which Andrew didn’t bother to read. He could guess.

There were two missed calls, as well. They were from a number listed under the name Browning, who had left messages. Rather than listen, Andrew dialled the number and listened to it ring until it was answered.

“Wesninski?” a male voice said from the other end. He sounded harried but not urgent.

“No,” Andrew responded. He didn’t go on, but that didn’t seem to deter the man.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. Your father was released to Baltimore yesterday. We want to assign you a – wait, what?”

Free fall. Collision. Broken bones were a familiar sensation to Andrew, but this wasn’t.

“You’re _too fucking late_ ,” he snarled, feeling a bubble of black anger pop in the back of his throat. At who, he wasn’t sure.

“Who the hell is this?” the man – Browning, Andrew presumed – demanded from the other end.

Andrew’s voice had been wiped out of him. A big hand appeared in his vision, open and waiting, and Andrew dropped the phone into it. Wymack turned it to speakerphone, holding it between the two of them.

“Hello?” he said, voice gruff.

“Who the hell are you?” Browning demanded irately. “I was under the impression this was Nathaniel Wesninski’s phone.”

“This is David Wymack. Who the hell are _you_?”

“Special Agent Peter Browning with the FBI,” Browning replied. “You’re Wesninski’s coach. Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Wymack replied. “He was kidnapped from my apartment by associates of his father’s. Who I’m guessing has something to do with you ringing Neil’s phone in the first place.”

Browning said something that still sounded distinctly like _fuck_ despite the fact that he was obviously trying to muffle it. “They left his phone behind?”

“They left one of the associates behind,” Wymack said. “Goes by the name of Jackson. Sound familiar to you?”

“I’ve heard of him,” Browning replied, grim. “I’ll be straight with you – I don’t know how much you know about these people, but they’re very, very dangerous. If you think Jackson Plank is anywhere nearby, you need to ring the local police immediately-”

“He’s currently restrained on the floor of my lounge,” Wymack interjected. Into the ensuing silence, he went on, “I’ll be straight with you. I don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything except finding my missing striker. So either you start telling me where the hell Neil Wesninski is, or I start giving Jackson Plank the Guantanamo treatment.”

“I’m in Baltimore right now,” Browning said. “I’ll be in touch shortly when I know more.”

“I hope so,” Wymack said, and hung up. He passed the phone back to Andrew, who put it back into his pocket. It felt heavy as a stone.

He was beginning to hate the sound of the word 'Baltimore'. He might have to drive there and burn the city to the ground. Apparently it was full of rats, and it might be interesting to watch them squeal and run.

“Lying to the cops, Coach?” Jackson asked, apparently having regained his voice. “Not setting much of an example for your players.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Wymack informed him coolly. “You better hope he calls back quickly, or we’re going to find out what it really takes you to crack if blunt pressure won't do the trick.”

He sounded serious. Andrew knew he was when Wymack threw him a glance and said, “Do you want him?”

“The cops aren’t that far away,” Kevin interjected from where he’d reappeared in the doorway. He was looking at Andrew like he often did – like Andrew was the unpredictable one here. Wymack was still looking at Jackson, eye to eye, in a way that made Andrew wonder if he should just offer to lend him a knife.

Andrew didn’t get a chance to answer either way because Neil’s phone rang again in that moment. Wymack said to Jackson as he took it again, “Aren’t you lucky?”

Over the speaker, Browning got straight to the point. “Wesninski’s house here is empty. They’ve cleared out other than a few of the staff.”

“What does that mean?” Wymack asked.

“It means that we have no idea where they’ve gone,” Browning replied frankly. “We’re doing what we can to track vehicles now. There was a disturbance earlier – Wesninski must have used it an excuse to slip out then.”

“So you’re there watching the house and he still managed to escape,” Wymack said. “Thanks for increasing my faith in the law enforcement profession.”

“You don’t know what you are dealing with, here,” Browning snapped back. “This is a man they call the Butcher of Baltimore. For a damn good reason.”

“And I told you, I don’t care,” Wymack replied. “You need to find my player, _Special Agent_.”

“I’ll do everything within my power,” Browning said. It didn’t sound like a promise – it sounded like an appeasement. Like he meant _I’ll call when I find the body_.

Andrew had a slip of paper Neil had given him with a name on it, but no way to contact the owner of that name. He sure as shit didn’t trust Browning with the name, so he kept silent. Neil had, after all, said that if necessary ‘Stuart Hatford’ would be the one calling Andrew.

“I’ll be in touch,” Browning was saying. “Give Plank to the cops. Don’t do anything I’ll have to arrest you for later. He won’t tell you anything – those assholes would die for Wesninski.”

He hung up. There was a second of silence, and then Wymack’s hand clapped onto Andrew’s shoulder before he realised he was moving, and before he realised why he’d even started to.

Andrew could taste helplessness like blood in his mouth, and Jackson Plank was laughing.

He said, still chuckling, “You should give up now. Your friend is as good as dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! xx
> 
> Next: 
> 
> “Not a fucking chance,” Neil snarled, the words grinding in his throat.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for descriptions of torture. Message me on [tumblr](http://badacts.tumblr.com/) if you want more information before reading.

Forty minutes could feel like a long, long time.

They flipped him onto his belly and cuffed his hands over his head rather than behind his back. It happened quickly enough he didn’t have time to struggle. Then Lola sliced his shirt right off of his back.

“What’s this?” she asked, and Neil had to swallow the sudden bolt of remembered terror. “Oh, sweetheart. You know, Riko was so sure he’d beaten that propensity out of you. Blood is thicker than that though, isn’t it?”

She wrenched the switchblade – the same one Renee had passed over to him, that Andrew had bought after taking back his own – off of his hip and threw it away so it skidded over the concrete. Neil, his cheek held hard to the floor with the way his arms were pinned, watched it flash in the light as it spun before coming to a halt. It was so far out of his reach that it may as well have been back in his drawer at Palmetto.

“You know, boys like you are meant to be declawed,” she said, putting a knee into his lower back. It wasn’t meant to hurt – it was another method of restraint. He felt the cold whisper of steel on the back of his neck, tracing the familiar arc of the scar there. Lola said, “You’ve already cost the Moriyamas. Really, it’s surprising that they let you get away with that one.”

Neil didn’t answer. He’d broken the player who’d given him the bite scar because he was a danger to Jean and Neil in particular and because he was worth much less than either of them. He’d been punished for it – severely – but Tetsuji had looked at Neil like he was something familiar afterwards, called him _Wesninski_ with an added weight to the syllables.

Neil hated that name. He hated the entirety of what was written on his birth certificate, including the _Abram_ that his mother had called him right before she died.

He wasn’t Nathaniel any more, not really. He’d excised his father from his sense of self, and he refused to die with someone else’s name. He might not get a choice about what went on his headstone, if he got lucky enough for one at all, but everyone who mattered would remember him as Neil. He could hear it said over and over in different voices – himself, with no trace of trauma.

_Wesninski_ was different though, for all he despised it. Neil wasn’t Nathan, but he was undeniably his father’s son. He had blood dripping from his hands to prove that.

“That child has no sense of artistry,” Lola critiqued, running the blade of her knife along the webbing of silvery scars over Neil’s shoulder blades. She didn’t press down hard, but it was so sharp that it left a stinging impression of its path that set his skin to itching.

“I suppose you’re a real artisan,” Neil ground out.

The knife pressed down harder. “I certainly am. What did the Special Agent want from you in Columbia?”

Of course she knew about that – Kengo had.

“To advise me to make better life choices,” Neil replied, and then tensed despite himself.

It didn’t help. Nothing ever did. Somehow not being able to see the wound made it hurt worse, feeding into the panic that suddenly gripped him about the throat. Even years of punishments – of torture – just like this didn’t mean he could tell without seeing how bad it was, and for a moment he was sure she’d killed him already.

That would’ve been too easy, though. She said, “Try again.”

“Fuck you,” Neil spat, and didn’t make another sound as she cut him again, then again, then again.

She had a lot of questions. About Browning, about Riko and Tetsuji, about Proust, and about the Foxes. There was only so long that Neil could hold out, with Lola at his back and the others dead silent but watchful in the background. He saved his silence for the ones who mattered, and that wasn’t anyone with the last name Moriyama. For them, Neil answered every query Lola had.

After a while, she got tired of whatever she was doing to the skin across his shoulder blades and pushed up onto her knees so the men holding Neil’s hands and feet could flip him. The feel of concrete against the mess of his back was enough to make his teeth grind together, but it still wasn’t worse than being nose to nose with Lola while she crouched over him.

“Apparently I’m meant to save anything worse than cosmetic for when your father arrives,” she said, tracing the knife – now washed red – over his jaw and upwards towards his hairline. “But I figure he wouldn’t mind if I took an eye.”

They’d moved on from him answering questions then. Neil let his eyes close as she passed the knife over his jaw and up to his ear, and then across. He felt the kiss of the tip against his eyelid and could do nothing but wait, with nowhere to go.

“Or,” Lola interrupted herself, lifting the knife away. Neil couldn’t stop the breath he’d been holding from blowing out between his teeth in a hiss, which drew a laugh from her. The relief lasted until she went on with, “Maybe a finger?”

She leaned forward and grabbed one of his wrists, forcing it harder to the floor so his back arched and ground into the concrete. He couldn’t stop the whine that forced itself out of his mouth at that. He bit off the noise at the firm touch of the blade perpendicular over the smallest finger on his right hand.

“I guess you probably value this, but you aren’t going to need it anymore,” she said.

“What do you want from me?” Neil asked through his teeth.

“You’ve already given me what I want,” she said. “Now it’s the fun part, right? You must remember this. Usually I would save it for after you’re already dead, but I figure just this once we might change things up.”

Neil did remember. Lola’s job was trashing bodies and disposing of them, and she was very good at it. After all, his mother’s body had never been found. His wouldn’t be, either.

Lola said, “Look at me, Nathaniel.”

He looked at her, and didn’t make a sound as she pushed until the knife met concrete.

For a long moment, it felt like nothing. Then, like a white-hot star centred over his head imploding, wiping the rest of him out. He might have cried out in the aftermath, he might have not – he had no idea. His mouth tasted distinctly of blood, though he didn’t remember biting down.

He’d mastered pain before. He breathed out, slow and shallow, and forced it down until his vision blinked clear.

Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Lola say, “Oh, look who’s here.”

There was a massive clatter as the big garage door across the warehouse rolled up. Lola let go of his wrist and sat up at last, pushing herself to her feet.

Neil closed his eyes, pulling his still-cuffed hands down from over his head to rest over his heart. There was the sound of car doors slamming and voices echoing against the metal walls, bouncing around the empty inside of his skull.

“Nathaniel,” said a voice that Neil heard sometimes in his nightmares. He opened his eyes, because that was a command.

Nathan Wesninski looked the same as he had when Neil last saw him, before his imprisonment and before Neil had left Castle Evermore. He’d been sixteen and his father had come to do something for the Moriyamas before he’d stopped by to watch the Ravens practice. He hadn’t said anything, had stayed high up in the North Tower, but Neil had felt his father’s eyes where he wore the number three on his back.

He crouched down at Neil’s feet, elbows on his knees. “My son. What a long fall from grace.”

Neil said nothing. _Grace isn’t what I would call it._

“I hoped that sending you to Tetsuji would mean an end to me having to deal with you, but apparently not,” Nathan went on. “What, you have nothing to say? I was told that you’ve spent months with your mouth open. Stupid.”

His father’s eyes passed over his face then down to where his hands were curled together on his chest. The corner of his mouth curved up, though his eyes were still glacial. Neil recognised that expression from the mirror.

“Was it worth it? A few months of pretending you were free?” Nathan asked. “You must have known it couldn’t last.”

Neil had known. Every minute of every day since he’d put pen to paper in Wymack’s office. It’d started off a whisper so deep inside he hadn’t even acknowledged it. But he was hollow: even a whisper resonated eventually. That echo had been all encompassing in Wymack’s office hours ago, but now it was silent. Everything was, with his heart struck dead.

Nathan said, “Answer me.” It was a threat.

“Yes,” Neil replied quietly.

“Hm,” Nathan said. “I’m not sure you’ll still think so before it’s all over.”

Maybe not quite dead – Neil felt the tickle of anger in the back of his throat. If there was going to be anything left of him, it was this: anger, and his own name.

“Do you think so?” Neil asked. His voice sounded rough but clear, and the touch of rage that sizzled on his tongue was audible. There was a shift in Nathan’s expression in response – the smirk turned business-like.

“I’ll take the rest of your fingers, first. Then perhaps your legs,” he said. “Then I’ll ask you again.”

He turned to Romero, who hovered behind his shoulder. “Get him up.”

DiMaccio, Nathan’s personal bodyguard and the man who Neil’s mother had feared almost as much as Nathan himself, stepped in to help with removing Neil’s cuffs and pulling him to his feet. They weren’t gentle about it. Neil, his hurt hand over his heart still, didn’t make a sound.

He looked around once they stepped back from him, like prey looking for an escape route. He stood alone in the centre of the circle of cars, the gaps between filled with the indistinct forms of his father’s men. They watched on unmoving, like stone. If Neil tried to bolt, they would stop him. That was the only reason that they’d removed the cuffs at all.

The sun was going down outside, the clear panels in the roof showing slashes of pink and violet instead of blue. Neil looked up at them and thought it had really been too much to hope for, that they would make it quick.

Nathan rounded one of the cars, walking towards Neil. In one hand he held a cleaver, the tool for which he’d gained his nickname. Neil remembered suddenly and distinctly how it felt cutting through flesh. He had a scar on his belly from where Nathan had used it on him before.

“Before we get down to business, I have one more thing to say,” Nathan asked as he stepped within arm’s reach and then grabbed Neil around the throat. He choked. It was just a threat, seeing as his relaxed his fingers an instant later, but it left Neil hanging in his grip gasping. “Jackson should have been here by now. That means he ran into trouble back in Palmetto.”

Neil didn’t dare hope for anything. Any hope would have been smothered anyway when Nathan went on, “And _that_ means your whole team is going to have to go, too. You really should have stayed where you were supposed to, Nathaniel.”

“Don’t you touch them,” Neil snarled, his voice barely making it from his throat. “ _Leave them alone_.”

“You could beg,” Nathan suggested, all white teeth in a snarl of a grin. Another reason he and Lola got on so well; they had the same taste in sadism.

“Not a fucking chance,” Neil replied, and took the backhand blow he got for that without a whimper. When Nathan let go of him, his knees went out from under him and he landed hard on his hands. The shriek of agony from his right one, that he didn’t dare look at, nearly made him black out.

“Do you want me to hold him?” Lola asked from behind Neil. He hadn’t heard her approach.

Neil realised quite suddenly that they didn’t, even after everything, expect him to put up a fight. Nothing outside of what a normal person would do in the face of being tortured to death. That was fair – as far as they knew, that’s what he was.

Not entirely. He had months of experience training with a woman who could face off with any of these people with a knife in hand and walk away, in a fair fight. A woman who would almost certainly win if that fight _wasn’t_ a fair one. And Neil was bleeding, but he’d fought through being broken before.

Neil wasn’t Renee. He wouldn’t win. But he could make the cost of killing him a little dearer if he tried hard enough.

He didn’t hear what Nathan said to Lola, but he felt her hands clamp down on his shoulders. He moved.

Dragging one foot up beneath him, he exploded out of his crouch. His skull impacted with her chin, and her hands disappeared from him. He wheeled around, following up with a punch to the throat with his left hand that made her gag.

He wished he had a knife. He kicked her backwards hard enough to break ribs instead, and then turned back towards Nathan.

He was fast. But his father was, too, and he wasn’t losing blood from multiple places. He collided with Neil knee-first as Neil faced him, driving him down onto the ground with him on top, and pressed the cleaver to Neil’s throat.

It was razor sharp. Neil felt it break skin even just with the light pressure of it against the thrashing pulse point just under the skin.

“Naughty,” Nathan commented, his playful tone not matching the black look in his eyes. “I suppose the cuffs will have to go back on. You know you aren’t allowed to break my things.”

Neil had learned that lesson as a four-year-old. There was no point in speaking. He closed his eyes and thought _not enough_ , and then resigned himself all over again.

There was a knock at the massive roller door at the other side of the warehouse, the hard singular rap of a fist. Every single one of them down to Neil’s father stopped to look.

Then before anyone could say a word, Nathan’s guards turned on each other.

Someone in Neil’s peripheral vision went down instantly with a bullet wound. They whizzed through the air like bees – even Nathan hunkered down, eyes narrowing.

Over his father’s shoulder, Neil could see DiMaccio bolting for his boss. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Nathan would slit his throat here and now rather than give him the opportunity to flee in the chaos.

Nathan’s eyes flicked back to Neil, but before he could make a decision either way, Neil kicked up one leg and kneed him hard in the belly.

With his balance gone, Nathan dropped his weight onto his free hand to prevent himself from falling to the floor – the other that held the cleaver, forced upward, avoided the fragile line of Neil’s carotid artery, but sliced deep into the underside of his jaw.

DiMaccio snatched Nathan away then, leaving Neil sprawled in place on the ground clutching at his neck with his good hand. There was nowhere for him to go with bullets flying overhead even if he could go anywhere, so he huddled down in place and tried not to think about how hot and wet his fingers felt.

It seemed like forever before the sound of gunshots died out, but it must have only been minutes. There was a clattering crash as the door rolled up again, which Neil could just see from where he was laying. Black figures poured out of the twilight, most of them armed. Neil didn’t recognise them on sight, but he could tell they weren’t cops. They were too quiet for that.

Nathan was snarling something. Someone replied, and then there was another gunshot, starker for being alone. Lola shrieked, the sound echoing in the rafters overhead.

“Nathaniel,” said a familiar voice – British accent. “Nathaniel – _shit_.”

Neil blinked. Someone pulled his hand away from his throat and pushed down against the wound, hard enough that the breath left him again. He made some kind of noise, though his ears were ringing enough that he didn’t really make it out.

“Easy,” someone else said.

He couldn’t get his breath back, not properly. It felt like he was inhaling the dark from outside, like it was blitzing out his vision. He let it overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! xx
> 
> Next:
> 
> The quiet on the other end took on a different tone entirely. “Where are you?”


	42. Chapter 42

When Neil came to, it was to movement and sound. It took him a moment to connect the two with their origin – he was in a moving car, rocking gently with the smooth shifts in the road and hearing the quiet roar of an engine cruising in high gear.

He panicked. But the first movement he made sent pain flashing jagged over his back, through his jaw and into his aching skull. There was someone leaning over him, but they caught his hand in an iron grip before he could hit them.

“Easy,” they said. Their voice and that word brought him back into his body and slowed his gasping. He opened his eyes.

The car was dark – he had no idea how long it’d been, but it was well beyond twilight now. He was wrapped up in fabric – a jacket, he realised, as his hand was returned to him – and strapped in like a sleepy child around it.

“You wouldn’t want to punch with that right now,” the woman said. Her accent was distinctly British, though one of the less pretty varieties. “Do you remember what happened?”

Neil started to reply and then stopped at the agonising pull of opening his mouth. He touched the fingers of his other hand to his throat and met the slick material of a dressing over the underside of his jaw and up onto his cheek.

“It’s cosmetic,” the woman said. “I mean, it’s nasty, but it didn’t hit anything important. I stitched it up – the rest of you, too. You’re not in danger of bleeding out anymore. You’re going to need some very good antibiotics and your hand could use some work, but that can wait until we get to where we’re going.”

“Where,” Neil croaked out, more a command than a question.

“We’re heading back to New York and then to England, and we’re taking you with us,” came a second voice. That was Stuart, turned around in the front passenger seat. Neil could just make out the lines of his face in the dim light of the dashboard, more familiar from his memories of his mother than from the weeks the two of them had spent in the Hatford household when Neil was a child.

“You can’t,” Neil informed him. He stretched his jaw until it started to loosen up, ignoring the jarring pain of it. “The Moriyamas won’t let this one go.”

Neil didn’t know what exactly they’d left behind, but from his fractured memories – the single final gunshot, Lola’s scream – he thought he could imagine. Kengo would chase them to the ends of the earth for ending the Butcher’s reign before it could begin again.

“I seem to recall you have a plan in place for them,” Stuart said. He wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t think I need it just yet,” Neil rasped. His brain, rattled and slow, was still quick to start putting things together – Lola’s questions, something Higgins had said, a thin spiderweb of information that stretched across the country and centred on a pair of men.

Brothers. The ones who Neil knew made him glad he was an only child. He said, “I need to talk to the Moriyamas. Face to face.”

“Kengo won’t be seeing you anytime soon. He’s still in the hospital. Kidney problems,” Stuart said. “I don’t think he has all that long, in the grand scheme of things.”

“It’s fine. Ichirou’s the one I need to speak with,” Neil replied. “What are you going to do? How are you here?”

“We were watching Wesninski’s house. He wasn’t supposed to leave, but when he did we followed him,” Stuart explained. “I figured if we were ever going to get a shot at him, this was it.”

Neil nodded. That was the bargain he’d made in exchange of Proust’s death just before Christmas break – information on what had become of Mary Hatford, and all the information that Stuart wanted on Nathan Wesninski and his people. Neil hadn’t bothered to ask what he intended to do with that information. He hadn’t cared.

Now, he did, but only in one respect. “Is he dead?”

Stuart’s eyes were black holes in his face in the dim light, but Neil could feel the full weight of his attention. “Yes.”

Neil wanted to ask _are you sure_? He thought that might be offensive, but there was a sick desperation in him that came from being caught between disbelief and wanting so badly for Stuart to be telling the truth.

Nathan had long faded to more of a nightmare figure in the back of Neil’s mind behind Tetsuji and Riko and the Ravens. The last however many hours had brought home just how real a threat he still was to Neil – or had been. Neil wished he’d been able to see the body for himself, see the life drain out of the man who’d been so ready to take him apart.

He didn’t think he’d sleep again until he could believe the heavy surety of Stuart’s _yes_. He wasn’t sure how long that would take.

He also supposed he had a deal to keep with Agent Browning. _Come back again when my father is dead and maybe I’ll give you what you want._ When Neil had said _we’ll see who pulls the trigger first_ back in an interrogation room in Columbia he hadn’t imagined that he would be so directly involved in that.

“Okay,” Neil said. His delayed reply was notable, though not so much as the dullness of his tone.  

“So our timing was mostly coincidental,” Stuart continued after a moment. “I’ll admit we hurried after your friend rang.”

“My friend?” Neil felt his brow furrow.

“Renee Walker,” Stuart said. Those two words felt like twin bolts of lightning to Neil’s chest. “She had my cell phone number. I didn’t realise you’d given anyone besides that boy any information.”

Neil’s lips were numb. “I… didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.”

Stuart hummed. “Smart. She rang me from your phone, said you were missing and that your father’s people had taken you. We didn’t have any way to confirm that with our people on the inside – not that they would have known you by sight anyway – but we took her word for it. Lucky for you.”

“She asked for you to do something?”

“She had no idea we were so close. Like I said-”

“-Lucky for me,” Neil said over him. He just – couldn’t believe that Renee had done that. Apparently, that was going to be an ongoing problem tonight.

He was stuck on the inside, frozen solid. Like all that physical pain and the shock of the events of the last twenty-four hours had short-circuited something important inside of him. There was no grief, no horror, and no relief: not even the anger from before. There was just silence that felt nothing like peace.

He said, “Can I borrow a phone?”

“Jess has a burner, I think,” Stuart replied. “She’s ex-Medical Corps, by the way. So you’re in good hands there. She’s even used to working on the move.”

“I don’t care about that,” Neil replied bluntly. “No offense.”

“None taken,” she replied with bemusement in her voice, putting a very old-fashioned phone into his good hand. “You can keep this one. You might need it if you end up being split up from us.”

If he had anything inside him, he would already be half mad over what Lola had done to his hand. With it swathed in bandages there was nothing to see, and with no time for it there was nothing for him to feel, besides the deep ache of a physical injury. That, like everything else, he would deal with later. He swallowed, dialling one of the many numbers he’d memorised and hitting call.

It rang for quite a long time – long enough for Neil to contemplate the fact that it was the middle of the night. Or, by the clock he could just read on the dashboard, the very early hours of the morning.

“Hello?” asked a sleepy voice from the other end.

“Betsy,” Neil said.

“Neil?” She seemed to shake the sleepiness off just at the sound of his voice. “Neil – where are you?”

Neil ignored that. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Of – of course,” she said. It was the most unsure he’d ever heard her sound.

Somewhere in the recesses of her office, she had a file on him – notes on what he’d told her, her extrapolations on what had happened to him, the physical markers of the violence he’d endured. He’d signed a waiver on that information and told her _if you need to show this to people then do that._ Because she’d offered weeks ago to help him if he decided to press charges against the Ravens, against Riko and Tetsuji, to get some kind of legal payback for what had been done for him.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. “I need you to take that information and go to Edgar Allen University. Take Renee with you, I’ll talk to her. I don’t care how you have to do it – I don’t care if you have to blackmail the entire school board. But you have to get Jean Moreau out of there.”

Either he was running out of time, or Jean was. Perhaps both. But this was a promise Neil needed to keep, a final knot in a web he needed to tie. He just had to hope that Jean wasn’t in pieces when Betsy and Renee arrived. He knew there was no question about them winning. It was an unfair fight, after all: that was Renee’s speciality.

“Of course,” she said, voice transitioning to the warm reassurance that Neil remembered.

“Thank you.” He could have sworn a weight like iron lifted from his shoulders at her agreement.

“Neil,” Betsy began, like she was going to tell him something or say something that would hurt even if it were meant to be a comfort. Neil couldn’t bear to hear it. He didn’t think he could maintain this frozen distance if he did.

“No,” he cut her off. “Just – _I can’t_.”

It was quiet for a long moment. Then she repeated, “Of course. I’ll do what I need to in order to get Jean out.”

“Thank you,” Neil repeated, and then hung up before she could say another word.

“What are you doing?” Stuart demanded. “If you need to speak to Ichirou, then organise it. I presume you have an ear with him one way or another.”

“I’ve got loose ends that need tying,” Neil replied. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Neil expected that he might be close by – probably closer than Stuart thought. And if not him, a representative of his would be. The Moriyamas had eyes everywhere.

“Nathaniel,” Stuart snapped. “Deal with the lord, _then_ worry about your friends. I didn’t go to all this trouble just so you could get yourself killed with your hysterics.”

“Don’t pretend you did this because of me,” Neil found his voice to snarl back. “You’re here because of my mother, remember? My priorities are the same as yours.”

Stuart huffed but fell silent. They both cared more about family than they did about the cold-eyed Moriyama lords. It was just that Stuart was the only one whose family was tied to him by blood.

Renee next, then. Neil dialled his own cell phone number, closed his eyes, and hit call. It only rang three times before it was answered.

“Who is this,” a familiar voice demanded from the other end, without inflection. It wasn’t Renee Walker. And despite everything with Jackson Plank not making it, Neil hadn’t let himself even dare to hope that this might be the reason why.

The silence inside him cracked – with relief. It felt more like the emotion he should have felt instead of blankness with his face pressed to the back wall of an elevator in Wymack’s apartment block, with a gunshot echoing in his ears.

Neil’s gasping, “ _Andrew_ ,” trembled on the way out, too close to breaking.

The quiet on the other end took on a different tone entirely. “Where are you?”

“Nowhere,” Neil said, because he didn’t have the breath for _in the back of a car on the interstate heading north._

“Don’t give me that.” Dangerous, now. Neil felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards despite himself. That hurt, too.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just wanted to-”

“Are you safe?”

Typical one-track mind. “Close enough,” Neil replied. “Are you okay?”

Andrew didn’t answer the question, instead prompting, “You just wanted to…?”

“I need to talk to Renee,” Neil admitted. “Is she there?”

“She’s asleep.”

“Betsy’s coming to get her so they can do something for me,” Neil said. “That’s okay. She’ll explain it better than me anyway.”

“Moreau,” Andrew realised, with the same dismissal he seemed to save for Jean in particular. “What are you doing?”

Neil couldn’t really think of a way to explain – not while holding what was left of his nerve. He repeated, “It doesn’t matter. If it works, I’ll tell you-”

He wanted to say _I’ll tell you when I get home_. But he wasn’t sure if he’d get that opportunity, because he didn’t know if he’d be allowed to go home at all. Fox Tower, the Foxhole Court, the Foxes themselves – they felt like a distant dream already, something too good for him to have ever possessed.

He’d also inadvertently implied that if what he was doing _didn’t_ work, he wouldn’t get a chance to explain. Andrew wasn’t stupid: he would have deciphered that, and he wouldn’t think it was because Neil didn’t want to.

There was silence on the other end that dragged. A quiet Andrew wasn’t unusual now that he was sober, but for that quiet to feel uncomfortable was. Neil realised partway into it that it was born of something he didn’t think he’d ever heard from Andrew before: uncertainty.

“You still owe me,” Andrew said. “Remember?”

Neil swallowed. He was back on the court on Friday night, asking a favour of a bored-looking Andrew because he knew he couldn’t stand on his own. He was in Wymack’s living room hearing _you owe me one_ from a man who looked at him so steadily it seemed like he was the one making a promise. “I remember.”

Another stretch of silence. Then Andrew said, “Come back.”

Neil was already shaking, but those two words nearly shattered him. “I’m not sure that I can.”

“I’m not asking for anything you can’t give me,” Andrew replied. It took Neil a moment to remember why those words sounded familiar – Andrew was quoting him. He forgot sometimes how incredible Andrew’s memory was sometimes.

“I’ll try,” Neil said, as much a promise as any other one he’d made and kept. “But is there anywhere…can I really…”

Andrew was throwing him a lifeline, but Neil was too afraid of it being snatched away to reach for it. _People like you and I get tired of wanting what we can’t have_. Neil hadn’t realised quite how true those words were when he’d said them. What he wanted to ask now, but couldn’t force out, was _can I really come home?_

Andrew said, “Yes.” Nothing else.

_No one ever offered me anything in my whole life, until you made me a deal._ Neil had said that, too. He shouldn’t have been surprised now. He barely registered the feeling anyway under the second wave of relief that tried again to drown him.

“I’ll try,” he repeated, forcing his voice to sound less like a last gasp for air.

“Good,” Andrew replied, and then nothing else. It took Neil a moment to register that he’d hung up on him. He couldn’t help another twitch of a smile as he lowered the phone from his ear – _typical._

He considered being wanted. He considered not being turned away despite all of his considerable faults and failures, to have the man who wanted nothing ask him to come back, to stay.

He thought about that for a long moment. Closed his eyes. Let it hurt.

Then, chest and mouth aching with clenching longing, he blinked his eyes open and dialled a third time.

“How did you get this number?” a calm voice asked from the other end. Nothing like Andrew’s kind of cold, a layer of ice constraining what lay underneath it. Ichirou was frozen all the way through.

“Lord Moriyama,” Neil said, using the honorific that technically belonged to Kengo but was the only one for the job right now. “This is Nathaniel Wesninski. I’m hoping that you will do me the honour of meeting with me to speak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting <3
> 
> Next:
> 
> “Are you going to make another protest?” Andrew asked.


	43. Chapter 43

_You should give up now. Your friend is as good as dead._

Kevin’s face said he believed Jackson Plank. Wymack, as protective as ever, had sent the two of them into the kitchen when the cops had finished dragging what information they could out of them. Andrew had the window over the sink cracked so he could smoke perched on the bench. From this angle he could see down to the parking lot where Neil had left the rental car when he’d come here.

Kevin, meanwhile, was pacing. Panicking, too. Andrew, uninterested in being charitable, wondered if he was more concerned about Neil or the remainder of the Foxes’ season.

Kevin paused at one end of the empty stretch of linoleum floor, hand tangled in his hair. “This is my fault.”

“Don’t stroke your own ego,” Andrew replied. His face hurt. Without the medication in his system, it was both harder and easier to ignore the ache of deep bruising.

He remembered Jackson saying _if you’re looking for the reason why, look in a mirror._ It was a needle at the back of his neck.

“I’m the reason he came here. If he’d just-” Kevin started, and then cut himself off. _If he’d just_ – stayed in West Virginia with Riko and the Ravens, Andrew presumed, as though Neil would be any safer there. Kevin, face twisting like that realisation was a bad taste in his mouth, started to pace again.

“I warned him that he wasn’t going to win against Riko,” he went on. He was breathing too quick, working himself towards an anxiety attack. “I don’t know why he ever thought he could.”

Andrew had implied something similar when he said _you are determined to play the same games as your enemies, but I don’t know that you’re prepared to go far enough to win._ He hadn’t been right, because it hadn’t been Neil’s ruthlessness that had hamstrung him – it was his attachments, the things he cared about.

They were the same kind of man, after all.

“I knew he was going to get himself killed-”

Kevin got too close. Andrew reached out and hooked his free hand in the collar of Kevin’s shirt, jerking him in. The stitches strained under his fingers.

“Kevin,” Andrew said, “Shh.”

That command was a throwback, half-unfamiliar on his tongue. It sounded strange out of a mouth with no smile. Less so with just a taste of the electricity inside his skin that he always kept packed down so, so tight.

Andrew didn’t have time to say anything else before Wymack put his head in the door. “They’re leaving.”

He seemed to process the sight of them after he spoke. Brow furrowed, he snapped, “Andrew, let go of him. And don’t smoke in my apartment, you little shit.”

Andrew had spent most of the morning in this spot doing just that before the apartment had been broken into by goons with guns. He flicked the butt out of the window, pushed Kevin away, and then slid down to the floor.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Kevin?”

He still had a promise left to keep, after all. Kevin, less frightened than Andrew thought he would be, shot him a long look and then nodded.

“So am I,” Wymack said. “Unless the two of you were planning on breaking the news to the others.”

Neither of them had planned to do any such thing. Wymack knew that. Nodding at their silence, he turned and led them down to the parking lot.

Andrew was unsurprised when Kevin got into the front passenger seat of the rental car with him over Wymack’s car. For all of his comments about Neil, he was no better at doing what was good for him.

Andrew didn’t just have Neil’s phone – he had his keys, too. They were weighty, a heavy mass of metal that had fell hard to the floor when they’d been taken from Neil. Andrew knew if he looked he would find a key for the house in Columbia that Neil had never had a chance to use, but which looked remarkably similar to the tattoo beside his left eye.

Helplessness felt like Andrew’s grip slipping. His fingers, as adept as ever, started the car and closed on the steering wheel just like they always did even so.

Once back at the Tower, Kevin joined Wymack on the floor where the Foxes lived. Rather than join them, Andrew went up to the roof.

His mouth already tasted of ashes and smoke. Rather than lighting another cigarette, he walked as close to the edge of the roof as he dared and then sat cross-legged there.

He didn’t think of the drop, or the hard landing at the bottom of it. He didn’t think about Neil standing on the very edge, wind-whipped and graceful with the adrenaline of playing at being in danger, knowing full well the only one afraid between the two of them was Andrew. Daring.

_Long way down. Probably quick, though._

_Were you hoping to find out?_

He hadn’t been there long when the door opened behind him. Renee said, “Andrew?” To her credit, she didn’t sound at all unsure.

When he didn’t speak she came and dropped down beside him. Her face, sweet and open, was creased around the edges with worry. “Coach told us what happened. I had an idea.”

She had a piece of paper – A4, folded, familiar – in her hand. Andrew had one just like it. The difference was that his was a name in English and an encoded string of letters. Hers unfolded to reveal a phone number instead.

Stuart Hatford turned out to be more useful than Renee could have imagined. Andrew, who’d thought that if he were anything like his nephew he’d be utterly ineffective, would have felt reassured if he was that type. As it was, he ignored the sensation of his palms sliding further and further.

Once Hatford realised that Renee was legitimately a friend – or something like it – of Neil’s, he informed them that ‘they’ were on Nathan Wesninski’s trail, travelling south from Baltimore. Which was a hell of a lot better than the FBI could apparently do: they hadn’t even noticed that there was a third party involved in watching Wesninski’s house.

Either that, or they were letting a British man with a grudge do their dirty work these days. Andrew wouldn’t have been entirely surprised.

When Hatford heard that Neil was going to end up in the same place as Nathan by all likelihood, his voice went hard, focussed. He seemed more like a soldier than a commander, but there was an effectiveness that came from that which Andrew could understand.

“We’ll do our best to help him,” he said, which sounded less hopeless than the equivalent statement Browning had made earlier. Less _we’ll bring you back a_ body and more _maybe he’ll only be in a few pieces when we get there._

 _We’ll do our best_ meant nothing to Andrew except a wilful waste of words.

“But understand this now,” Hatford said, his voice crackling over the speaker. “If we do find him, there’s a very real chance you won’t see him again anyway.”

Renee’s expression, which was still quietly concerned, shifted. Underneath the pretty smile and the pastel dress code, Renee was just as possessive as Andrew.

“I’m sure you’ll leave that to him to decide,” she said, which was a well-disguised threat. Hatford was quiet for a moment, and then chuckled.

“You must be mistaking me for my brother-in-law,” he said. “I won’t take him anywhere he doesn’t want to go. If he has the ability to make a choice, he’ll get one.”

“Thank you,” Renee replied diplomatically. When she hung up, with no indication that she was bothered by speaking to someone who was almost certainly a criminal and who was on a mission to hunt down a man called the Butcher of Baltimore, she passed Neil’s phone back to Andrew.

“Come inside and let me clean your face?” she asked, standing and offering him a hand. Andrew let her pull him up.

 

* * *

 

It was closing in on 4 AM when the phone in his pocket started buzzing again.

“Who is this?” he asked, voice stone.

There was a long moment of silence. Then Neil Wesninski’s voice, shaking, said, “ _Andrew_.”

Every time Andrew thought he’d killed adrenaline outside of life-or-death necessity, he found he was wrong. He could all of a sudden feel his heart beating in the hollow of his throat. “Where are you?”

“Nowhere,” Neil said, because he clearly had no idea what a fine line he was walking with Andrew.

“Don’t give me that,” he warned, with an edge.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to-”

 _It doesn’t matter._ Andrew’s fingers tightened involuntarily. “Are you safe?”

“Close enough,” Neil replied. The tremor in his voice had transitioned to amusement – Andrew would have liked to think that meant he was telling the truth, but Neil seemed like the type to find humour in the face of his own death. “Are you okay?”

Neil had last seen Andrew with a gun held to his head, but Andrew thought the fact he was speaking on the phone now was enough of an indication that he was fine. “You just wanted to…?”

“I need to talk to Renee,” Neil said. “Is she there?”

“She’s asleep.” She would have sat with Andrew all night, but Reynolds had come to collect her eventually, thin-lipped but as haughty as ever.

“Betsy’s coming to get her so they can do something for me,” Neil said. “That’s okay. She’ll explain it better than me anyway.”

There was one very clear connection to be made there. Andrew, his tongue twisting with distaste, said, “Moreau,” and then, “What are you doing?”

“It doesn’t matter. If it works, I’ll tell you-”

 _If it works, I’ll tell you when I come back._ Men like Neil didn’t say _if_ unless they were dead bar the bullet they were waiting for, destined for the grave. Andrew could hear the wavering certainty in his voice, and hated it. He’d never had time for resignation.

Andrew knew how Neil worked; he could drive that note out of his voice, replace it with something else. After all, Neil kept his promises.

It just required Andrew to open his mouth.

Swallowing the taste of blood and bleak stubbornness, Andrew said, “You still owe me. Remember?”

“I remember.”

When it came down to a choice between courage and cowardice, there was only ever one road to take. “Come back.”

“I’m not sure that I can.” Neil’s voice was wavering.

“I’m not asking for anything you can’t give me,” Andrew replied, because he wasn’t that kind of man.

“I’ll try,” Neil said. Andrew hated that commitment-free phrase, but from Neil’s mouth, it still sounded something like honesty. Something like truth. “But is there anywhere…can I really…”

He was looking for an anchor. Or maybe a lifeline to drag him out from under water. Andrew said, “Yes.”

“I’ll try,” Neil repeated in reply. Not a promise, but something like it.

“Good,” Andrew said. Then he hung up.

 _Come back_. Andrew closed his fingers around the fragile shell of Neil’s phone and fought the urge to reduce it to pieces.

His entire life he’d been called the epicentre of a disaster - earthquake, hurricane, the kind of bomb that levelled buildings. The kind with collateral damage: except Andrew, a precision weapon of a man, had never caused any such thing.

He wanted to break something. He didn’t. This disaster was on the inside, and echoing it outside wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Who was that?” someone asked from behind him in a sleep-rough voice.

When Andrew turned, he found Aaron in the lounge doorway, arms crossed. His brother’s eyes went straight to the blackening bruise on Andrew’s cheekbone before moving to meet his gaze. He seemed to be trying to pick something from Andrew’s face.

Right now, they matched. Andrew had put a bruise in almost the same place on Aaron as the one Jackson had given him. _Did you lose your nerve?_ Andrew still wasn’t sure if applying his fist to Aaron’s face had been confirmation or denial of that.

Andrew hadn’t noticed Aaron come in, but his face was more readable than Andrew’s. “Still listening in on phone calls?”

He remembered Aaron snarling through a bathroom door _I wish I’d never known about you, you fucking –_ punctuated by something colliding with it. A foot or a fist. He’d certainly come out of there with bruises over both, sweat-limned but clear-eyed and no longer jonesing for another fix.

Andrew, sitting on the floor across the hall from the door watching it for signs of imminent escape, had replied _hindsight is twenty-twenty, brother._

Aaron now looked unbothered, which was a new development. “So you asked him to come back.”

“Are you going to make another protest?” Andrew asked. Instead of silken, his voice came out rough from his throat.

Aaron blinked slowly. “No. I was just thinking that you were right. We really are the same.”

They were twins. They were nothing and everything alike at once. “Did you only just realise that?”

“Actually, no,” Aaron replied. “I’ve been thinking that for a while now.”

Andrew didn’t answer. Aaron went on, weary and incautious – unafraid, even with the marks of Andrew’s hands still on him – “When you said that he didn’t mean anything to you, was it him you were lying to? Or yourself? Because I said exactly the same thing to Katelyn when I told her to stay away from me, and I’m still not sure which of those two options it was for me.”

Nothing and everything alike was right. “So you think I might be able to give you some clarity?”

“No. I don’t think you know the answer any better than I do,” Aaron said.

Andrew had told Renee he believed in three things, none of which were any kind of god. Human nature. Truth. And promises, the binding kind, the only thing in the entire world that he would bend a knee for.

“Hey, Andrew,” he said. _Hey, brother_. “Make another deal with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and for commenting! Sorry I don't have the time to reply, but I appreciate every single one <3
> 
> Next: 
> 
> Neil looked back at him, still as a stone on the inside. “I thought you might say that.”


	44. Chapter 44

Stuart dropped him off in a quiet park in the middle of the city. He gave Neil a long, probing look before he left, and then said, “If I don’t hear from you in forty-eight hours, I’ll ring your teammate.”

Neil shrugged. “Good luck.”

Jess leant between the front seats. “You really need to see a medical professional in the near future, okay?”

Neil waved her off and turned to go.

It was early enough on a Sunday morning that the park was deserted, which was lucky because Neil must have looked like a shambling wreck. He located a park bench out of sight of any cameras and sat down, ignoring the way the dew soaked through his jeans.

It was hardly the worst thing on them. He did, at least, have on a shirt that someone had procured for him under the oversized jacket. It rubbed uncomfortably against the dressing on his back.

He didn’t have to wait long. He’d been there lost in thought while staring at a water feature for perhaps twenty minutes when a voice spoke in Japanese from behind him.

“You will follow me,” the man said. Neil started to turn his head, realised he couldn’t, and then spun on his ass to face him instead.

The stranger wore a dark suit and a serious expression. Behind him, there was a pair of black cars, lean-muscled and expensive. Neil looked from him to them and then said, “No.”

His expression didn’t change. “No?”

“No,” Neil repeated. His skin was crawling in a way that boded ill for the future of his travelling anywhere via car with strangers. The memory of being in the trunk, of being enclosed, was so visceral he thought he might be back there if he dared to blink.

“And if the alternative is dying here and now?”

Neil raised his hands from his sides in an exaggerated shrug. “Just do it. I’m not in a state to make it difficult for you.”

The man nodded and turned on his heel, walking back towards the cars. Neil watched him for a few seconds and then turned back himself. If they shot him, a very real risk, he’d prefer not to see it coming.

This was just another bargain, another moment of recklessness, in a long string of them for Neil, one that could backfire any second. It would be luck and his gut instinct if this – if _all_ of this – paid off.

Death never came. He heard footsteps, and then another figure in a dark suit and coat sat beside him.

Ichirou Moriyama was brutally familiar, both from the last time Neil had spoken with him and because of his similarity to Riko. There was a kind of stillness in his face that Riko didn’t have, though – it was control, pure and simple. It was something that Neil needed to match if he wanted to survive this.

He exhaled and pushed everything down. Neither sentimentally nor pain had a place in deals like this: right now, he had to be his father’s son.

He didn’t dare speak first. He watched Ichirou in silence and waited while he was scrutinised in return by Ichirou’s level dark stare.

“You have caused my family a considerable amount of trouble,” he observed.

“I apologise for the inconvenience, Lord Moriyama,” Neil said. “That was never my intention.”

“Intentions are of little importance,” Ichirou replied. “You have crossed innumerable lines despite promising when you pled your case that your only interest was in playing that ridiculous sport. You have proven yourself to be liability – are you surprised that my father saw fit to have you killed?”

“No,” Neil replied. “I’m surprised you agreed to meet with me at all.”

Something flickered in Ichirou’s eyes. “Why do you think that is?”

It was a trick question, of sorts. Neil knew the answer. He said, “It could be because you are not your father. Perhaps you don’t believe me to be a liability like he does. Perhaps you were just interested to hear why your father’s best and most trusted people still couldn’t kill me. But I don’t think that’s it. I think that you are merely interested in what I have to say.”

Ichirou inclined his head an iota, a prompt to go on. He was affording Neil a great favour to speak freely, and he could withdraw it at any moment. With that in mind, Neil didn’t wait.

“Lola Malcolm said I’d been sentenced to death because of what happened to Proust. Presumably because your father owned him, or at least thought he did.

“I think your father might not know who Proust really belonged to when he died. But I think you do,” Neil said, slowly, though not out of caution. Every word was deliberate. “I think you’ve set a cunning trap for your brother, and that I’m just a pawn to you.”

Lola hadn’t known why Neil had arranged for Proust to die, just that he had killed a man on Kengo’s payroll. She’d talked about Riko like he was responsible in part for Neil being taken, but the derision in her voice had been clear. Phil Higgins had said _New York to Seattle_ when he brought up Riko’s money trail.

It was a trap. Not for Neil, and not for Nathan – Neil didn’t think Stuart had factored into the planning at all – but for the self-styled Raven King, whose throne his brother was planning on ripping from underneath him.

“He and I have an enmity that is public knowledge. It wouldn’t exactly be a stretch to believe that he would pay to have my father set free, not if evidence about him paying off cops and criminals in Oakland also came to light after an extensive police investigation.” Hence why Higgins was still alive despite what he’d found. “I’d be dead. My father and his circle would be in the wind. And there would be plenty of evidence pointing straight at Riko, leaving the main branch spotless.”

Ichirou’s second nod was just final confirmation, though it still sent cold relief through him.

“He’s competition to you. He’s a threat. I told you that months ago,” Neil continued. “I can see now that I didn’t need to.”

“Your point?” There was no hint of his thoughts on his face.

“The fact that I’m still alive is an issue for you. But it doesn’t need to be,” Neil replied. “I can give you what you want. I promised to do that before Christmas – it was just your brother I promised.”

“What is it you’ll give me?” Ichirou asked, voice like the fine edge of a very sharp knife.

“I’ll take care of Riko myself if you like,” Neil said. “I know your brother well, and I’ve always hated him, but I was content to contain our disagreements to the Exy court. He made a mistake when he involved other people though, and he was stupid about it. I told him I’d destroy his reputation, and I will. I’ll even kill him for you. It would be my pleasure.”

“Or,” Ichirou said, “I could kill you now and have done.”

Neil looked back at him, still as a stone on the inside. “I thought you might say that.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Neil replied. He could already imagine it – he doubted Ichirou would be the type to drag it out. A single bullet, probably, head or chest.

He went on, “That’s why I made a contingency plan.”

It didn’t look as though Ichirou was expecting that. Maybe he had thought that Neil was the kind to die quietly, despite all the evidence to the contrary. “And what might that be?”

“I knew that at some point I might do something you didn’t agree with – I knew I didn’t have much in the way of leverage to get out of that. So I decided to find some,” he replied. “Does the name Katamatsu mean anything to you?”

Ichirou didn’t react, just stared at Neil for a very long moment. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I did some research,” Neil replied. When he had asked his uncle who the Moriyamas might be afraid of, that was the name that had come up. “I rang in a few favours. I didn’t want to get hasty – I wasn’t sure whether I would need the information that I found. So I gave it to someone so they could use it in the event of my untimely death. Just as a precaution, you understand.”

Ichirou blinked once, slow like a big predator. “A precaution?”

He meant _not a threat_? Neil said, “Riko might have forgotten who he was dealing with. I never did – not with him, and not with any of you. I wanted to end this year alive. I was prepared to do whatever I had to in order to ensure that happened. But I also don’t mean any harm to your line. It’s the other branch I have an issue with.”

“You understand that, if I wanted to, I could find every person you’ve ever told about that family and make sure they never got a chance to talk,” Ichirou said.

“You could try,” Neil replied. The words tasted like a challenge on his tongue, like pure adrenaline.

At the end of the day, they were a threat. This was Neil holding his ground, playing the game he was born to play. Riko had never stood a chance against his brother, and he never really had against Neil, either. He wasn’t a firstborn son. He didn’t have what it took to be here face to face like the two of them were, so focussed on his messy web and ruling his disciples from a castle that was already crumbling.

“So, you end my brother for me,” Ichirou said. “What is it that you want in return?”

He made it sound as though Neil didn’t have much to bargain. Neil said, “My life. Those of Kevin Day and Jean Moreau. For all of us to maintain our freedom from Edgar Allen going forwards, and to be able to play Exy as we choose in exchange for our professional earnings. Just a variation on the deal we already made – that’s all this has to be.”

“Day is already free. But Moreau is still a Raven,” Ichirou commented. “I won’t arrange the termination of his contract over this. He’s worth more to me there than he is playing for another college team.”

“He’ll be dead before the year is out if he stays at Evermore,” Neil replied. Of that he had no doubt – he’d seen the new scars Jean had carved into himself at his first banquet as a Fox. He’d read the desperate message Jean had sent him in the wake of Kengo’s hospitalisation. _You told me not to do anything stupid, but I can’t hold out._ “And the Ravens might have him for now, but they won’t for long.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Ravens are insular, but the board of Edgar Allen can’t ignore serious allegations of abuse within the team. Or evidence of it,” Neil said. “Every inch of my skin is proof. So is Jean’s. And they’re about to hear all about it if they haven’t already.”

Betsy and Renee would be most of the way there by now at least, perhaps already at the school. Neil could only hope that Jean had held out these last few days – that they would be bringing out someone tentatively alive from the dorms underneath the Raven’s stadium and not a corpse.

Neil had always intended to keep his promises. He’d been chipping away at Riko’s foundations for weeks, for months, and now the entire structure would crumble with a few well-placed blows. He was ready to deliver them. He let Ichirou read that willingness from his face.

“I feel that I may have underestimated you, Butcher,” Ichirou said after a long moment of silence.

“It’s a common mistake, Lord Moriyama,” Neil acknowledged. He refused to wince at being called that title – it wasn’t the first time. “I wouldn’t have lived this long otherwise.”

Ichirou’s gaze was iron and stone. “You make a convincing case for yourself. Your methods are weak and clumsy, but there is something of your father in you. So, you have a deal under the terms we’ve discussed, except for one thing. You can do what you like to my brother’s reputation, but his life still belongs to the main branch.”

Which meant that Riko was still Ichirou’s to kill as he pleased. Neil’s heart was pounding. “Thank you, Lord Moriyama.”

“You have a limited amount of time. I won’t wait forever,” Ichirou went on, as though Neil hadn’t spoken. “I will speak with my father on your behalf.”

He stood, but turned to face Neil with the advantage of height. “You understand that if you ever mention that name again, I will hurt everyone you care about, and then kill them. Starting with Day and Moreau.”

Neil wanted to say _don’t make it so I have to_. He realised that that was inadvisable. He nodded his agreement instead. Ichirou watched him for a moment longer before walking away, disappearing out of Neil’s range of vision. He waited for the cars to both start and then drive away for turning himself to ensure that they were gone.

Nothing. The little parking lot was empty. Neil felt a trickle of relief that wanted to be a flood, held back by a dam of tightly woven control, and he didn’t let it out. Instead, he pulled out the burner phone and powered it back on.

Browning sounded snappish when he answered his cell phone, the number Neil had saved to his own phone and then memorised along with the others when he realised he might need them. “Who is this?”

“My father’s dead,” Neil said. “Guess that means you get your information now.”

“Where the hell are you?” Browning demanded. Neil told him the address, and then waited while he spoke with someone else.

“I’ve sent the local police department to send out a unit to pick you up,” he said, voice brisk. “Should I send an ambulance too?”

Neil shrugged even though Browning couldn’t see it. It hurt his back. “I’m not dead yet.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Browning replied, and said as much to whoever was with him. Then he said to Neil, “Where have you been? We found a warehouse full of bodies and hogtied criminals hours ago, but no sign of you. I’ve got every police department from Palmetto to Baltimore on red alert looking for you, you know that?”

“I didn’t realise you cared that much,” Neil said.

“You’re our best witness against your father’s people,” Browning replied. “Also, you’re a kid who was kidnapped by known criminals and murderers who has been missing for more than twelve hours. By all rights, you should be dead. I’m going to be interested to hear why you aren’t.”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Neil informed him, standing and shuffling closer to the parking lot. Now that the adrenaline he’d been running on was fading, he was beginning to feel utterly wrung out. Too much blood loss, too much pain, and too little sleep.

“I’m beginning to realise that,” Browning said.

Neil could hear sirens, getting closer. He was close to the city centre, but they had to be breaking inner-city speed limits to be arriving so fast. “They know that I’m not running, right?”

Browning muffled the speaker for a second, and then came back with, “Just keep your hands visible, Nathaniel.”

“With pleasure.” Neil dropped himself to his knees as gently as he could on the dew-wet grass, and then folded his free hand against his skull. “See you soon, fed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xx
> 
> Next:
> 
> “Technically you broke the terms of your bail, by the way,” Browning said.


	45. Chapter 45

Neil came around to blinding light, his body seizing up despite himself. His throat was dry and sore, and he had no idea how long he’d been asleep.

He did, at least, remember where he was and how he’d gotten here. That allowed him to draw in a deep breath and blow it out, blinking the dazing light from his eyes until he could make out the window and the man sitting in front of it.

“Technically you broke the terms of your bail, by the way,” Browning said without looking up from the folder he was scribbling in. He looked like he’d been awake for days, but his suit was neatly pressed.

“Next time I’ll tell my kidnappers I’m not allowed to cross state lines without my lawyer,” Neil said, his voice hoarse.

He’d never been in a hospital in his life, so he’d been surprised by just how unbothered the staff seemed over his injuries and his escort of armed cops. He would have thought they got torture victims every day from the brisk way they’d checked his back and the wound on his throat.

His hand hadn’t been quite so simple. Neil had still refused to look at it, but had consented to the plastic surgeon doing whatever was needed to make it – they couldn’t make it functional, because that wasn’t possible. So, to make it as good as it could be.

They didn’t put him under, just sedated him before they numbed his hand. At some point that had turned into real sleep with only a few moments of hazy wakefulness as all those hours awake caught up with him at once.

He must have been out for a while – Browning looked like he’d had some time to get settled. Neil stretched a little, feeling the pull of it underneath whatever painkillers he’d been given.

“Is watching me sleep entertaining?” he asked, rolling onto his back. He was a mess, but here in a clean and comfortable hospital bed with all his hurts faded almost to nothing it was easy to pretend he was okay.

Browning finally looked up from the folder to shoot him a dry look. “I’ve been a little busy dealing with your trail of blood and destruction, but I’m sure it’s just scintillating.”

“Not my trail,” Neil pointed out.

“No,” Browning said in agreement. “We got DiMaccio and both of the Malcolms alive. And your buddies back home handed Plank over to the cops down there, minus a few teeth.”

Neil could have laughed, though it might have come out sounding hysterical. _Andrew_.

“Your testimony could be what ensures that all of them spend the rest of their lives in prison,” Browning went on. “But you have to live long enough to make it to the witness stand. Once the doctors agree you can be discharged, you’re going to tell us everything you know. Then we’ll organise protection for you somewhere that no one will be able to find you.”

“No,” Neil said. That word was starting to taste familiar.

Browning raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I already said that I would,” Neil replied. “But I won’t go into hiding.”

“Where do you think you are going to go? Back to school like nothing ever happened?”

“Actually, yes.” Since he’d spoken to Andrew on the phone, Neil hadn’t considered any other option.

Browning sat back in his chair. “You being there is an immediate danger to everyone on that team. Not to mention that you’re a scholarship athlete with an injury that may end your career, never mind your season – if the school even lets you come back in the first place.”

“I didn’t realise the Palmetto board had elected you their speaker,” Neil replied dryly. “You worry about my father’s people. I’ll worry about myself.”

“I can’t force you to do anything,” Browning responded. “But I _can_ tell you my opinion. You’re being an idiot.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Neil said. “How long until I can leave?”

“Thanks for proving my point,” Browning said. “But despite the fact that you left half your blood in a warehouse a state over, they should let you out either this afternoon or tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Neil said, mostly meaning it, while he wondered how he was going to get in touch with the Foxes. “Where are my clothes?”

“In an evidence bag,” Browning replied. He tossed a plastic bag onto the bed by Neil’s hip. “What was in your pockets. That, you can keep.”

“You went through the phone?” Neil knew Browning would have if he were any good at his job. All he would have found was contact details for Betsy, Neil’s own phone, himself, and a number that Ichirou would have doubtlessly scoured from existence by now.

Browning nodded. Neil pressed, “And you didn’t want it as evidence?”

The agent’s eyes flickered distinctly to the side as he replied, “We don’t need it.”

Which answered one of Neil’s final questions. “If you knew where I was between the warehouse and the park, why bother asking?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Browning was a terrible liar. He could have learnt something from the Foxes.

There was no way Stuart and his people could have made it into the country without anyone being aware of it – they were no less well known on the international crime circuit than Nathan himself. That they would book tickets, even using falsified documents, to come out here just as Nathan was released would have seemed like a hell of a coincidence to whoever checked out red flags in the TSA computer systems. So maybe not stopping them had been a quick and easy way to solve a problem.

Or maybe that hadn’t been the way it had happened. Maybe Stuart had made his own offer to rid the FBI of the Butcher, and they’d accepted it.

“Okay,” Neil said, because he owed his life to the fact that Stuart had been there, however that had happened. He rolled back onto his side, content to wait until someone appeared to let him out of here. He curled the bag with the phone inside into the curve of his body.

“There’s one thing I wanted to ask now,” Browning said over the rustle of sheets and plastic. “Your mother.”

“She’s dead,” Neil said, going still.

“You’re sure?” The implication that she would have left Neil and run if she was alive burned, but it wasn’t as though Browning knew she’d run in the first place to protect him. He would though, for all Neil couldn’t find the words to explain that right now.

“I know what a corpse looks like,” he said instead. “You won’t find her. They’re too good at hiding bodies.”

Suddenly the painkillers didn’t feel like they were working quite so well: he _ached_.

Browning must have picked up something from his tone, because he said, “I’m going to go see if I can find someone to look you over now that you’re awake. There’s an officer on the door.”

Neil wasn’t sure if that was a threat or not. He made a noise of assent and listened as Browning stood and left. Once the door had clicked shut, he let out a long sigh.

It didn’t seem to matter how long it had been now. _Years_. Or maybe it just seemed so much closer in the wake of the last few days. Either way it had been a long, long time, but here and now he finally had a chance to make sure that everyone knew exactly what had happened to his mother.

 _Your father is dead_. _He is dead, and you are alive_. He had no intention of falling asleep again, but it happened anyway with that mantra circling inside his head. That and _you are alive. You are going home._

* * *

 

Neil woke to voices, half-familiar and getting louder, dissolving into clattering and someone shouting, “Hey!”

His eyes shot open and he made it halfway upright before the IV in his elbow stopped him. Disoriented, he watched for a second without comprehension as Browning strode to the door, his hand at his waist.

His gun. His voice rough, Neil yelped, “No!” The door opened so hard it nearly hit Browning, and someone in black darted through.

Browning was fast. Wymack was faster – he reached out and forced the fed’s hand up where he’d been turning the gun on the fastest of all them, Andrew, who was suddenly at Neil’s side.

It’d been less than forty-eight hours since they’d seen one another, face to face in a situation kind of like this one. It felt like lifetimes.

“Who are you?” Browning snarled, suddenly looking like a proper threat rather than a rumpled cop in a suit as he wrenched himself from Wymack’s grip. Andrew had a hand on Neil’s chest and leant over him like he meant to shield his with his own body.

“ _Leave them_ ,” Neil snapped, half torn between looking at Andrew and meeting Browning’s gaze. “They’re fine, they’re-”

“Be quiet,” Andrew told him, and Neil abruptly closed his mouth.

“We spoke on the phone,” Wymack said into the ensuing quiet. “I’m David Wymack. That’s Andrew Minyard, our goalie.”

“You can’t just force your way in here,” Browning said, though he holstered his gun and waved away the cop from outside the door who still had a hold on Wymack’s other arm. “That guy is out there to keep Wesninski safe from the same kind of people who took him in the first place. You’re lucky neither of you got shot.”

“You’re the one who called me,” Wymack responded, utterly unruffled. “If you didn’t expect me to show up, you shouldn’t have told me where Neil was.”

“I didn’t,” Browning snapped.

“Didn’t you?” Wymack responded, with a hint of a smirk. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have called from a landline. These days, you can search those on the Internet and find out the corresponding address. Haven’t you heard?”

Neil thought that Browning might need to find a new dentist thanks to the way he was grinding his teeth. “I wouldn’t congratulate yourself just yet, unless you were hoping to end up in handcuffs after all. _Both_ of you.”

That was aimed at Andrew as well, not that he seemed to care.

Even with the threat of the gun gone, none of the tension had left Andrew’s body. Neil, silent, drank in the sight of him. He had bruised black and blue across his cheek where he’d been hit, the colour leaching into the hollow of his eye and jaw.

“Yesterday didn’t teach you to be scared of guns, obviously,” Neil said, because someone had to say something.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Andrew replied, voice low. His fingers paused a breath from Neil’s neck, and Neil nodded when he realised what Andrew wanted. He hooked one under the dressing that had been reapplied there and unstuck it, barely pausing at Neil’s wince when it pulled.

He hadn’t been anywhere near a mirror, but he knew it looked bad. Wymack swore under his breath at the sight of it, which was confirmation even when Andrew’s expression didn’t shift.

Andrew reached for his hand next. Neil stopped him, fingers to fingers in the barest, lightest touch, before he could remove that bandaging too.  

He said, “They – I can’t…”

He didn’t want to say _don’t_ but he needed to. He thought that must have shown in his voice, because Andrew looked away from his hand – obviously misshapen even swathed in Elastoplast – to his face.

This close, the bruise on Andrew’s face looked worse than it did from a distance. Neil wondered if his cheekbone was fractured underneath the bloom of purple-blue where Jackson had hit him. Andrew’s knuckles were bruised and grazed in places, the thumb on his right hand swollen. Those marks were signs of life and of hard-won freedom, but Neil, sitting quietly with Andrew’s hand still on his chest holding him down, was acutely aware that _he_ was the reason why they were there at all.

Looking at him here and now was doing to Neil what hearing his voice over the phone hadn’t managed. All those fissures he’d hastily plastered over were making reappearances, like he was a house at the epicentre of an earthquake. He’d been shaking for hours now – this was him breaking into pieces at last, throat burning on words he wouldn’t let free. _I’m sorry_.

“Did it work?” Andrew asked, interrupting something he would never want to hear from Neil anyway. It wasn’t _please_ but apologies weren’t any sweeter. Especially when Neil was mostly sorry for putting Andrew at the finest edge of his control, and then pushing him over.

It took Neil a moment to remember what Andrew was even talking about: their conversation, him tentatively saying he would explain later. Browning, his frown registering his tone, said, “Did _what_ work?”

“Yes,” Neil told Andrew without sparing him a glance. He hadn’t come this far to slip up now – his deal with Ichirou still felt as tentative as spider-silk.

“Then you can do better than ‘try’,” Andrew said.

“Yes,” Neil said. That was the best he’d been able to promise then, but _yes_ to Andrew always felt better on his tongue. “As long as there’s still somewhere for me to come back to?”

Andrew had given his answer, and he rarely repeated himself. That was fine, because the question wasn’t really aimed at him. Neil threw Wymack a quick glance, there and then away. He might not fully understand their conversation but he knew the both of them – he could guess.

“If the question is can you come back to the Foxes, then the answer is yes,” he said.

“But, Coach-” Neil began to argue before really thinking about it, even though the last thing he wanted was any answer other than the one Wymack had given him.

“ _But_ what? But you’re in danger? But you’re dangerous? But you have a big mouth, a serious attitude, and a chip the size of Everest on your shoulder?” Wymack said. “Do you think I didn’t realise all of that the moment we met? You’re a Fox: all of that goes with the territory. The Foxhole Court is where you belong.”

Neil blinked at him and wondered if he’d ever heard a more accurate descriptor of himself out of someone else’s mouth.

“I want to speak with you,” Browning interjected, speaking to Wymack.

“About?”

“Letting someone who presents a real and obvious danger to your team stay when both they and he would be safer if he kept away.” Neil didn’t flinch, bolstered by Wymack’s words and the level look in his eyes that echoed their last conversation in his office back at the Foxhole Court. _I don’t own you, and I respect your freedom to make your own choices because I know you haven’t been afforded that in the past. But you are a Fox._

“Well, those two aren’t going anywhere,” Wymack said, gesturing the Neil and Andrew. “Let’s step outside and talk.”

Browning, lip twisted, looked long and hard at Andrew’s back before gesturing to Wymack to leave the room. Neil couldn’t help flicking a worried glance to the door as it closed, and Andrew didn’t miss it.

“Do you think the cop is somehow going to convince Coach you’re too problematic after all?” he asked, finally adjusting from his rigid stance. He hitched his hip on the edge of the bed, lifting his hand away from Neil’s chest and using it to balance on the mattress. He was no further away, and not much more relaxed, but he no longer looked like he would turn and cut someone’s throat at any moment.

“I don’t want Browning to tell him anything before I get a chance to explain,” Neil said. “I owe all of you an explanation. About my father and everything else.”

“You don’t owe any of us anything,” Andrew corrected. “Not anymore.”

“I’m not back yet,” Neil pointed out. They were a long way from Palmetto right now, and hours of talking away from even starting the trip home.

“You will be.” That sounded like a threat, but it wasn’t aimed at Neil. “What happened to your hand?”

“A psycho with a sharp knife.” Neil swallowed heavily. “Think I can still play without that finger?”

The joke came out dead on his tongue, and sounded nothing like a genuine question either. It wasn’t one – he knew he could, even if it meant hours and hours of practise to regain what he’d lost in a few seconds to Lola. Andrew’s hand lifted to Neil’s face, his thumb smudging over the key tattoo on his cheekbone.

He said, “You know I don’t give a fuck about that.”

To a man who’d poured years and months into Exy and who had for such a long time defined himself by his skills on the court, that dismissal shouldn’t have been a comfort. But Neil was comforted; because he wasn’t Nathaniel the half-broken Raven anymore. He had more than that, starting with this man and ending with the people that he could trust waiting for him at home. A home, one that wasn’t a glorified cage in black and red.

He wasn’t number three anymore. He didn’t belong to Riko – he belonged to himself. And he was going to keep the promise he’d made the Raven King at the Christmas banquet.

For the first time since he’d left Evermore, he wholeheartedly believed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xx
> 
> Next (last one of these, pals):
> 
> He said, “Talk.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the epilogues! So it's as good a time as any to thank a few people.
> 
> The marvellous [exyfexyfoxes](http://exyfexyfoxes.tumblr.com/), who has been working for MONTHS beta-ing for me, which means dealing with my ardent love of commas and liberal use of the word 'had' (sorry not sorry), and so deserves a massive round of applause.
> 
> [wolfsbanepunch](http://wolfsbanepunch.tumblr.com/) produced an AMAZING pair of mixes for this fic that you can find [here](http://wolfsbanepunch.tumblr.com/post/151400608810/you-might-think-youre-dangerous-but-not-like-i) and [here](http://wolfsbanepunch.tumblr.com/post/151400622725/boys-with-pretty-faces-and-dagger-sharp-smiles), and [broship-addict](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com/) also did art!! Which can be found [here](http://broship-addict.tumblr.com/post/148321424577/quick-sketch-because-badacts-wonder-of-a-fic-has).
> 
> And lastly, thanks to everyone who has left kudos or comments - this fic really wasn't supposed to turn into such a monster, and I never would have made it this far without the support of the hardy few who've read and commented as I've written. Some of you may remember me writing in the notes of the very first chapter that I was going to do selected scenes from the books because doing everything “would be crazy”. That’s a direct quote, friends. You guys have reminded me along the way of why I changed my mind (besides being crazy, I mean). I love you guys and I appreciate you all so much!!

It was surprisingly simple to arrange for a man to be discharged from the hospital, even one in that state. Neil, as ever, was the only real complication.

He took one look at the blacked-out windows of the SUV the Feds wanted him in and balked. He was five-three in a sweater with the hood up, the gash on his jaw barely visible at this angle, looking like he’d just crawled his way out of hell, and a bunch of cops couldn’t get him to move an inch.

“Let us drive him,” Wymack suggested, before they could move onto threats and give Andrew an excuse to hurt them. “Special Agent Browning can ride with us if you think we’re going to try to run off with him.”

Browning’s eyes narrowed but he thoughtfully agreed. Andrew took the keys from his pocket and threw them to Wymack – he’d been the one to drive them North, on Wymack’s suggestion. The man was afraid of nothing, apparently. He hadn’t grabbed for the overhead handle even once in the first hour before the familiar rhythm of driving had restored fragments of Andrew’s control.

Wymack clicked the locks and climbed into the driver’s seat, and Browning took the passenger seat without looking back at them. The rest of them – Neil’s guards, and Browning’s henchmen, the suits with guns – climbed into the SUV and pulled out.

Andrew looked to Neil. There was something fixed in his expression, not quite fear but not quite anything else. He looked – vulnerable, in a way unrelated to his bruised face and wounds.

Andrew hated it. He asked, “Are you planning on walking back to South Carolina?”

“No,” Neil informed him. He did at least _sound_ steady. It was a delicately constructed lie that was just waiting to fall apart. “Hey. Guess how they got me out here.”

“No,” Andrew mimicked him. He didn’t need to guess to know the answer was a variation on _not a way that I liked_. “Get in the car. I don’t have all day.”

Neil got in the car. When he fumbled buckling his seatbelt with his bandage-swathed right hand, Andrew reached over and did it up for him. His fingers felt too strong for the job, more inclined to break something than fix anything.

There was no switch in his head to be flicked, one that would transition him from the man who’d pointed a gun at Jackson Plank and said _I’d like_ _to_ with only truth in his voice back to the one who’d traced Neil’s palm in the court lounge. The one who’d said _yes_. The one who could let Neil’s whole hand brush his now, a silent question.

There was no switch because they were the same man. Andrew, all steel and sorrow, was capable of allowing Neil to hold him palm-to-trembling-palm between them until the tremors eased too.

“We’ll arrange a hotel for you two tonight,” Browning said to Wymack up front. “Nathaniel will have to stay onsite.”

‘Onsite’ in this Podunk city in Virginia meant the local police department, and, at best, meant sleeping in an interrogation room. Andrew didn’t move, but Wymack flicked him a glance in the rear view mirror anyway.

“We’ll wait,” he suggested. “No need to organise anything. I’m sure we’ve all slept in worse situations.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Browning snapped. “Either you stay at a hotel, or you stay in a cell.”

“That threat’s getting tired,” Andrew commented. “Are you going to follow through any time soon?”

Neil, who’d been staring out of the car window, said without turning, “Andrew stays or I’m not saying anything.”

Browning’s ears were going red. “ _This isn’t some kind of bargain-_ ”

“Isn’t it?” Neil finally looked over. His hand had gone entirely steady, and his eyes were ice. “Are you sure about that?”

His expression said _is this the hill you want to die on?_ After a long moment, Browning’s answer turned out to be _no_. Wise – the fed might not be good at threats, but Neil was. Andrew had no doubt that if he’d been split up from them both, the FBI would have had a truly uncooperative witness to deal with.

Wymack pulled up in front of the main door of the police department between patrol cars but didn’t get out. He snagged the hem of Andrew’s shirt through the open window as he walked past, making him step closer to the idling car.

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up,” he said, and then let go. He watched Andrew join Neil on the sidewalk and then pulled out.

“This way,” Browning said, leading them into the building. Andrew set off the metal detector in the door, but no one bothered to search him. More fool them.

Neil kept his face averted, as though that would somehow make him unrecognisable, but Andrew was too busy watching to do the same. The building was full of cops and feds alike; he wondered if the locals had resisted being partly taken over because of the location of one troublesome witness.

Browning opened a door off the side of a hallway and ushered them inside – it looked like an office, though it had no windows at all. They were still taking security seriously, judging by that and the fact that another cop pulled a chair up outside the door.

Neil took one of the chairs, Andrew another. Browning, on the other side of the desk, produced a pad of notepaper and a recorder.

“The sooner we start, the sooner we get this over with,” he said, clicking his pen.

“You ask the questions, I’ll answer them,” Neil replied, with just the barest taste of humour.

Browning had a lot of questions. Neil answered all of them. His voice was level and considering, and did not waver even as he recounted all kinds of things that would make other people weep. It was obvious why Browning had been so intent on protecting Neil, listening to it – as evidence went, it was damning.

To Andrew, it was clear that Nathan Wesninski had made a terrible mistake in selling his only son to Tetsuji rather than killing him outright. Whether he’d thought it was fear or some kind of misguided loyalty that would keep Neil silent wasn’t clear, but either way Neil knew far, far too much.

Browning was interested in Neil’s father, but Neil didn’t hold back when it came to Tetsuji and Riko either. The shift in Browning’s expression at the first mention of their names was faint but notable – his brow furrowed and he jotted down a few notes.

They pushed on into the evening with only a brief break for dinner, but Neil started fading early and Browning seemed to recognise that. He stood and gathered his notes, informing Neil he’d see him in the morning and that someone called Davis would be in shortly to set them up for the night. Then he left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Neil blew out a long sigh. “God.”

That vulnerability again, but different this time because he was showing Andrew this chink in his finely held control on purpose. Or, if not on purpose, because he knew that he could relax right now without it being held against him.

There was a brisk knock at the door, and then it opened to admit a broad-shouldered woman with a stretcher bed under each arm. She made them stand out of the way while she snapped the legs into position and set them catty-corner to one another in the clear spaces around the desk and chairs.

Someone else came in, with blankets slung over his shoulder and a medical kit. “I’m Officer Davis. Apparently you have wounds that need cleaning.”

“Put the kit there,” Andrew instructed, the first thing he’d said in hours. He pointed at the desk, and Davis obeyed and then left, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Not really a part of your skill set,” Neil noted. He walked over to the desk and perched on the edge of it next to the bag, his gaze on Andrew’s face.

That wasn’t entirely true – one didn’t live a life like his without learning some first aid – but Andrew could see his point. He ignored it in favour of stepping closer, unzipping the kit and pulling out what he’d need.

The people from the hospital had left Neil’s throat uncovered, but they’d given clear instructions that all of his wounds needed to be cleaned daily for at least a few days, particularly his hand. Neil hadn’t looked like he’d been listening, caught up in his impatience to get out and get things over with, but Andrew had.

There were plenty of disinfectant wipes in the top of the kit. Andrew ripped open the foil packet of one and stared at Neil until he obligingly tilted his jaw to allow him access to the stitched gash there.

Andrew wiped over the line of it where it travelled diagonally across the underside of Neil’s chin and up over his jaw into the softer flesh of his cheek. It would scar, unavoidably, but it looked clean enough that there was little chance of Neil losing a chunk of his face to infection. He didn’t hiss or flinch at the sting.

“Back,” Andrew commanded. Neil slid off the edge of the desk and turned, putting them much too close to one another. When he fumbled getting his shirt off, pausing with it hooked over his elbows and shoulders, Andrew pulled it the rest of the way off.

It was a mess underneath, but he knew Neil had never been all that pretty under his clothes from the few times he’d been forced into changing with the rest of the team. The new additions were lurid, scabbing where they were too shallow to stitch, the skin between red-raw with some kind of friction burn.

He was red and swollen and ugly from nape to mid-spine, but that didn’t obscure the distinct shape of the ‘W’ the marks formed together.

“Not very original,” Andrew said, opening a new wipe and starting on one side. Neil laughed, low and hoarse, which meant that he knew.

“She called herself an artist,” he commented, head bowed. “It’s a statement piece, I guess. But it’s not like she thought I was going to live to see it scar.”

“They got her, too,” Andrew said. Browning had mentioned that when he’d called later to say that they had Neil, that he’d made contact with them, which had been the first whisper to Andrew that whatever he’d been planning to do had worked. If it hadn’t, the fed would have been calling to say they’d found a body. It just hadn’t been until Neil’s confirmation from his hospital bed that Andrew had really believed it was true.

“Yeah,” Neil replied, accepting Andrew’s assistance with putting his shirt back on. “Yeah, they did.”

He sounded like he didn’t quite believe it. He sounded like he wanted to very badly. When he turned around again there was something dark and distant in his eyes that didn’t falter when Andrew started to unwind the bandages from his hand.

Nothing could be ignored forever. Neil looked down to his hand once it was uncovered, flexing it into a fist in a way that definitely wasn’t a part of the recommended physio program.

It was clean, healthy, already probably healing underneath the stitches. But looking at it, there was no denying that Neil was short a finger, taken off low by the knuckle. It left him with a distinctly unbalanced looking hand, especially when he extended his remaining fingers and thumbs to the point where they strained.

It had to hurt. Neil didn’t make a sound.

He’d gone dead white, sweat breaking out over his brow. He looked fixated and unable to look away, the crawl of shock wiping his expression. It was emotional, not physical, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get sick over it. His breathing was too fast, and getting faster.

Andrew reached over with his free hand, pushing Neil’s face until he turned it away. “Stop that.”

Neil made a sound through his teeth, a complaint cut off into a keen by his gritted jaw. His breathing jolted but picked up at the same rate, so quick it was bound to be starving his brain of oxygen.

Andrew’s hand was still at Neil’s cheek: he used it to grip Neil’s chin with only a modicum of care for the wound there, turning him so he couldn’t look anywhere but at Andrew’s face. “Neil. Stop.”

It took a moment, but the action earned him Neil’s full attention. His expression flickered back to something more familiar; there was recognition there, like he’d been expecting someone else but found Andrew. Like he’d gone elsewhere in his head and got lost.

Andrew had no intention of letting him disappear. He said, “Talk.”

He looked down to continue what he was doing, but he could still feel Neil’s focus on his tilted head. Neil swallowed convulsively.

“About what?” he rasped.

As if Andrew cared. “Whatever.” He released his hold on Neil’s face, sure now his mind wouldn’t wander again and needing the hand to finish his task. It probably hurt, but it was as good a reminder of being alive as any. Not just for Neil either.

“You didn’t bring Kevin with you?” Neil asked.

Andrew should have expected that one. “I said ‘talk’, not ‘ask questions’.”

“Then you should have specified.” There was a taste of dry amusement in his voice.

“He wanted to be there to welcome your rescued bird,” Andrew answered. That was Kevin, all torn between anxious fear and nobility, the most ridiculous waste of emotions Andrew ever cared to see in a human being.

“Have you heard anything from them?” Neil asked.

“No.” Dan’s panic when she’d discovered both Bee and Renee had turned their phones off had been lessened only by Reynold’s cool dismissal of her concerns.

Neil hummed. “I’m surprised you didn’t drag him along anyway.”

“He asked.” That wasn’t something Andrew thought he was capable of. They were all dogs learning new tricks, apparently.

“Wouldn’t have thought I’d live to see the day,” Neil said.

“That isn’t saying much.” Neil should have been long dead at this point. That he was still alive was a testament to how far blind, stupid, determined commitment could get you.

“Hey,” Neil said. When Andrew met his eyes again, he was the man Andrew remembered from the night in the lounge of the court. _You can touch me_.

They were close; eye-to-eye with Neil slumped down on the desk. When he tilted his chin in invitation, Andrew kissed him firm enough to bruise. One more wasn’t going to mean anything when they were both black and blue all over.

 

* * *

 

The feds had drained Neil dry by lunch the next day, and set them free with only a minor attempt at convincing Neil it would be better to sign onto witness protection. His answer was predictably rude – Browning didn’t seem surprised.

Wymack was waiting for them in the parking lot like he’d never left. Neil’s pause before climbing into the car was so brief it was almost unnoticeable. He managed to do up his own seatbelt this time.

It was a long, silent drive back to Palmetto through the afternoon and into the night. Neil spent most of it asleep – he’d been restless last night, and though the car couldn’t be more comfortable it was certainly quieter than the office had been. More secure, too.

Wymack didn’t ask any questions with the unspoken understanding that Andrew wouldn’t answer them anyway. The stories were all Neil’s to tell, and he wasn’t in a chatty mood.

With the unerring instinct of sleeping passengers everywhere, Neil woke up properly five minutes away from campus. “Where’re we going?”

“Straight to Abby’s to get you checked over,” Wymack explained, making the turn towards her house.

They weren’t the only ones. Besides Abby’s Honda was Bee’s grey Ford. Its hood was cool to the touch under Andrew’s fingers as he brushed past it. Neil eyed it with trepidation that was presumably aimed at its former passenger.

“I warned them,” Wymack said over his shoulder on the way to the front door.

“Warned them about what?” Neil asked.

Wymack paused purely to shoot him a dry look. “That you’re a mess.”

“I think they knew that already,” Andrew commented, ignoring Neil’s huff as he overtook him.

Renee was waiting in the hall when the door opened, in the shadow. It didn’t do her much good with her bright hair, but the dark matched her expression. She looked more like the girl who went by Natalie Shields.

“Expecting trouble?” Andrew asked, but her expression had already shifted as she recognised them, from dangerous to her particular brand of warm and gentle.

“Oh, Neil,” she said, hand to her mouth. Abby put her head around the door at that with Bee at her back, which answered Andrew’s question anyway: they were definitely expecting someone other than their teammates.

“Let him sit down, at least,” Wymack suggested gruffly, like Neil hadn’t just been sitting down for hours straight. Maybe he just didn’t want to have this reunion in the hallway.

They moved into the lounge, but there was no time for sentiment once they arrived – Kevin was sitting on the couch, his body half turned away. In the far doorway stood Jean Moreau. His pale eyes darted straight to Neil, and for a long moment their expressions matched. Unlike Kevin, whose gaze had gone straight to Neil’s hand, Jean didn’t look away from his face.

“Nathaniel,” he said in his heavy, accented voice.

“Jean,” Neil said, with the same kind of weight. There was wariness in his tone, bleeding into the relief. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

He looked remarkably spry for a man who’d required a midnight rescue, not even bruised. Or, at least, not where Andrew could see. He didn’t think Riko’s restraint was very good, but Jean was also the best backliner the Ravens had. Presumably thatmeant not breaking him completely.

“Likewise,” Jean replied. “Riko’s mood improved over the weekend. Your loss was my gain, I suppose.”

Andrew bristled. His voice was soft when he said, “I’d be careful. The balance can always be shifted.”

Jean met his gaze straight on. There was a taste of the resignation and fear that Andrew remembered from his appearance at the first banquet, overlaid with blankness – shock, perhaps. Maybe something more familiar than that, to Andrew in particular.

“It’s fine,” Neil said, shooting Andrew a quelling look that he felt more than saw. Jean looked away first.

“I don’t understand how I am still here,” he told Neil. “They had no right to take me from the Nest.”

“I hope you tried telling them that,” Neil replied, throwing Renee a look. “You’re right, and wrong. They didn’t then; they used information I gave them to ensure they could. They don’t now, either, but that’s only because you belong to the main branch now. Kevin, too.”

Everyone in the room blinked. Jean and Kevin had both gone white, but Kevin was the one to say, “That’s impossible.”

The curled corner of Neil’s mouth said _have you met me?_ “No, it isn’t. You aren’t free – none of us are. But you now are a part of a deal with Ichirou Moriyama that gives you the same freedoms I have had this year. And all you have to do is play Exy and then part with a little cash.”

“Ichirou? Not Kengo?” That was Kevin, his expression twisted halfway between fear and hope.

“Kengo’s still in hospital. But the heir to the throne has big dreams for his reign, apparently. He wants to start early,” Neil replied.

Jean had sunk against the doorframe like his knees were wobbling. Neil’s expression softened at the sight. He said, “You aren’t free. But it feels like it, right?”

Jean drew in a short breath, blew it out. “You were slated for death. What could you possibly have had to bargain with?”

Neil’s eyes flickered between Bee, Wymack and Abby. He shrugged. “That’s not the important part. The important part is that you never have to go back there. Or if you do, it’ll be wearing a different team’s colours.”

The shape of Jean’s shoulders shifted, softening. Maybe he’d thought Neil arranged all of this as an elaborate prank, and that he’d been planning on sending Jean straight back to Riko. It sounded like something that would be fun to a Raven, even with Andrew’s limited experience of them.

“I don’t understand why he let you live,” Kevin asked, his brow furrowed.

“He didn’t have much of a choice,” Neil replied. “When I saw how things might go wrong with the main branch, I made sure to find information on them to use as leverage.”

“Then he _definitely_ should have killed you.” Andrew had to agree with that.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Neil said. “I’m not the only one who knows it. I divided the information up and encoded it, and gave my uncle the key in case anything happened to me.”

On a few pieces of paper, Andrew was willing to bet. Ones that he’d entrusted to Renee, and to Andrew, with the understanding that even in death Neil would bring the Moriyama empire crumbling around their ears. _Especially_ in death.

As plans went, it was the kind Andrew could approve of. There was something to be said for careful planning and all-consuming spite.

The front door slammed. Someone yelled, “Neil!” and the lounge was suddenly full of Foxes. Andrew had to wonder who had called them all here – Renee, probably. They were smart enough to stop at a reasonable distance, but not to refrain from all speaking at once, a mix of anger and relief and happiness.

There were plenty of people willing to fuss over Neil, if he let them. It was easy enough for Andrew to escape the crush and slip out onto the back porch. He leaned his elbows on the railing and lit a cigarette.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out there when the door behind him. He’d been expecting Renee, but it was Neil who stepped out into the cooling late afternoon air.

“Wondered where you went,” he said in a low voice. There was something expectant on his face when Andrew threw him a glance.

“I’m surprised you managed to escape,” Andrew commented. He was more surprised Boyd and Dan hadn’t followed him out here, with the rest of the Foxes close behind. Neil hadn’t had a chance yet to recognise just how desperate they’d been over his disappearance, but they’d no doubt made their relief over his return obvious.

“I told them I was going to lie down for a bit,” Neil said. “I don’t think they believed me, but they pretended to.”

He was smiling just slightly, in a way that melted the chill blue of his eyes into something else entirely. Even battered and half-broken, he was real and solid and standing right here. Andrew looked at him for a long moment, while Neil looked back.

Andrew said, “You gave me that piece of paper a while ago.”

It had been the day Andrew got out of Easthaven, Neil’s request of Andrew in fulfilment of their deal. It wasn’t that long but it felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. It also hadn’t seemed like much of a favour, in repayment for Kevin’s protection.

Andrew hadn’t known then that weeks earlier Neil had bought Andrew’s safety and Proust’s death. He hadn’t known that it was Neil’s life insurance written on that paper. It didn’t matter, because he would have upheld his promise to keep it safe were it a bit of used tissue – he, after all, had owed Neil. Except it _did_ matter, because it was the two of them, and Neil shouldn’t have trusted Andrew like that.

_A while ago_ meant _we were nothing to each other then_. But that wasn’t true, because Andrew and Neil had been orbiting one another from the moment they met.

“Yes,” Neil replied, and didn’t look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x
> 
> Next: Epilogue, Parts One and Two.


	47. epilogue: the things we've done

“Okay,” Kevin said.

His voice echoed back off the walls in the confines of the court. With just the two of them under the lights, it always felt different, but right now the familiarity was overwhelming Neil. It’d been weeks since he’d set foot in here, and right now it felt like something holy.

He’d missed that feeling. It was like being ten years old again, marvelling at Castle Evermore’s size and the brilliance of the players. He’d lost the purity of that feeling a long time ago, but every now and then he got a taste of it.

Neil had a racquet in each hand, one heavy and one light. He tested each in his right hand, feeling the extra force his missing finger put on his thumb and index finger mid-swing. It’d hurt, it’d take time to become accustomed, and it was going to be hell on his aim.

But, here and now, he thought that it was going to be okay. Putting aside the lighter racquet, he said, “Get on with it.”

Kevin rolled his eyes as he set out the equipment for the first Raven drill. Once done, he took his racquet from where it leant against the wall. In his left hand, just like old times.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” Neil observed, gesturing for Kevin to go first.

He knocked five out of the six balls off of the cones: the last dropped through the expediency of him hitting the cone itself so the ball rolled off. Not a bad showing for a man who’d been training with his other hand for months. By his expression – all victory and obsession with the challenge – Kevin knew it.

Neil was far, far more wayward. He took down the first cone, but his balance was out, and his second, third and fourth shots went astray. He had to pause before the fifth and sixth to shake out the jolting pain in his wrist, but those two did fall. His strength was the same – his aim was shot. But he could fix that.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Kevin noted as he jogged down to reset the cones.

Neil scooped up another ball from the bucket at his feet and threw. It bounced off the back of Kevin’s helmet with pin-perfect accuracy, making him whirl around. “Hey!”

Neil, teeth gritted with the pain of it but halfway to grinning, said, “You were saying?”

 

* * *

 

Kevin’s fall from grace – and he really needed to stop thinking of it that way – had begun with murmurs in the wrong ears, ones that anyone else would have rejoiced at. Kevin, who’d had the number two beaten into him long before he’d had it inked permanently onto his face, hadn’t heard them until it was too late. _Day is the better player. Let him step out of the shadows. Your perfect court isn’t so perfect._

Riko’s shadow stretched so long that it blotted out the light. Kevin had known that the perfect court wasn’t perfect every time he looked at Jean and Neil, but it was another thing entirely to confront the truth he held like a tiny star in his chest. He couldn’t bear to squash it out, for all he needed to.

_I’m better_.

He figured it didn’t matter. He thought Riko would shrug it off even if he did hear it. He hadn’t realised that deep inside Riko was harbouring a sneaking dash of insecurity that seized hold when those rumours did reach him.

Riko had never believed that Kevin might be better: Kevin knew that now with startling clarity. He just couldn’t bear that other people might believe it, and see him as something other than the perfect Son of Exy, the perfect king.

It seemed fitting that this downfall, too, would start with whispers.

Someone hadn’t kept silent – perhaps someone high up in the school, maybe someone from inside the Nest. But either way, everyone knew that the last of Riko’s disciples had defected. And not just that; there were mutterings of blood and violence, of scars and obsession and abuse at every level within the Ravens. Quiet ones, but they were out there.

They were true. Kevin held that thought inside him too, but he couldn’t stop being afraid.

He’d turned to Wymack and told him first what he wanted to do. Jean’s disappearance was louder in the media than anything else besides Neil’s still-mysterious injuries, and everyone was desperate to know where he’d gone. Kevin had the means to distract them, and he meant to do so.

Jean deserved that much. Kevin hadn’t been able to do anything else for him, but he could do that.

Then he’d said, “Do you know of any good tattoo artists?”

Now, sick to his stomach and coated in sweat, Kevin pulled off his helmet and gave every member of the press in the room a good view of his new tattoo. He’d thought long and hard about what meant enough to him that it could lend him strength when he looked in the mirror, because he was tired of feeling it sapped from him every time he saw the number two there instead.

In the end, it was easy. And if the black chessboard queen had earned him Neil’s quiet approval and a new considering light in Andrew’s eyes, so much the better.

_You aren’t free. But it feels like it, right?_

Neil’s words had been for Jean, but they applied to Kevin too. And he was right – this tentative release felt just like freedom.

And this moment right here felt like victory, and like vindication. They’d taken to the court tonight with Neil on the bench, Dan dark-eyed and determined in his place. It should have been impossible to win against the Catamounts and make it to the third round for the first time ever without him, but the word ‘impossible’ had never meant much to the Foxes.

Neil had bolted onto the court with Nicky and Allison at the final buzzer, catching Kevin with one arm around his shoulders and tugging him down. Eyes alight, he’d said, “Hey. I was right.”

“What?” Kevin asked, tugging his helmet off. His feet were numb and his arms were killing him, but the scoreboard read 6-5 to the Foxes and that last goal was all his.

“You’re going to be better than they ever could have made you,” Neil said, right before Matt pulled him away and Dan collided with Kevin in his place. Kevin had been frozen solid for several moments, those words echoing in his head. Not just _I’m better_ , but the idea that there was room for growth and change and improvement outside of the Nest, with the Foxes and even after that.

The journalists were professional enough that their questions started with the game, though they shifted soon enough to questions about Neil and his ‘injury’. They didn’t know anything yet, but that would change soon enough. Whispers would become shouts for comment in no time, and then it would be Riko’s name they were saying in place of Neil’s. As it was, Kevin told them Neil would return to the starting line up before the season was out, like it was a given that they were going to go all the way to the final round.

“It must be very rewarding to make it this far with the Foxes. Your presence has made a huge difference to the results of a team that was once famed for being completely fractured,” someone said off to the side. “What do you think has turned things around for them?”

“I can’t take credit for all of that. The Foxes were on their way up before I came south, and while Neil and I might have introduced some new concepts and abilities to the line, that would mean nothing without the capabilities of the rest of the players and the coaching of my father.”

He watched that sink in across the assembled faces, his heart beating quick in his throat. There was a momentary silence, as they seemed to struggle with what to say to that.

Eventually, one of them just said, “Your father?”

“My father,” Kevin repeated with the twist of a grin that he’d learned from overexposure to Neil Wesninski.

 

* * *

 

Aaron caught up with Neil in the otherwise-empty stairwell, the clatter of his footsteps catching Neil’s attention. His expression was predictably sour but not openly angry, which was a change.

They hadn’t spoken since Neil had come back. Looking at him now, Neil could still feel the sting of the words _Raven-trained whore_ but he knew there was no point in waiting for an apology that was never going to happen.

He also knew that something had changed between the twins during his absence, because they’d gone on since as though nothing had happened. He just hadn’t cared enough to ask yet.

“We’re swapping rooms,” Aaron said. He dropped something on the landing at Neil’s feet that clattered on the metal. It took Neil a moment to recognise it as a key rather than anything more sinister, and another to catch up with what Aaron had actually said.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“You and I are swapping rooms,” Aaron repeated slowly, as though Neil were either hard of hearing or exceptionally stupid.

“And why would we do that, exactly?” Neil was quite fond of his quiet suite with just Matt for company, and while sharing with Andrew might have its upsides, he didn’t feel the same about rooming with Kevin and Nicky.

“Because I won’t bring Katelyn anywhere near Andrew,” Aaron replied.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have a deal about that?”

“Yeah, and he broke it when he tried to break my face over you,” Aaron said. “We made a new one. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Anything that involves me is my business,” Neil pointed out, rather than forcefully banging Aaron’s head against the wall. He could see all of the ways that Aaron could manipulate Andrew to get what he wanted because, despite his mistakes, he’d still seen something that night at SUA’s court that he could use as a weapon.

Aaron stepped a little closer, probably because he read that temptation from Neil’s face. “I don’t know what he sees in you, you know that? But I don’t care as long as I get what I want out of it.”

“What – so you give up on your crusade to get rid of me, and you get Katelyn?” Neil asked, the idea of it becoming solid in his mind. “Hope you ran that by her first.”

She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who could be owned, for all she was a different breed from the Foxes. But Aaron’s half-smug face said Katelyn was already on board with this plan.

“Nice of her to take you back. She said you were an asshole,” Neil commented into the silence, just to see the flicker of anger over Aaron’s face.

“No more so than my brother,” he said, which vividly reminded Neil of Andrew saying to Aaron _I guess that’s one of the ways we’re the same_. He’d been more right then than he’d anticipated, perhaps. They both had, by the way Aaron had said _then prove it_ with utter certainty that Andrew wouldn’t be able to prove Neil didn’t mean anything to him.

Against his better judgement, Neil felt a faint buzz of amusement in his chest. When he’d first challenged Aaron over Andrew in the aftermath of Drake, this really hadn’t been how he expected it all to play out.

“She and I have equally bad taste then,” he said, and then before Aaron could snarl, “Fine. We’ll swap rooms. Do you think you can wait until tonight, or is that too long?”

Aaron threw him a deadly look as he pushed past him on the landing and rattled down the next flight of stairs. Neil called after him, “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Once the sound of footsteps had faded, he bent down and picked up the key from the ground. With it tight in his fingers, he couldn’t resist a smile.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy Knox was all grin and casual good cheer in his red and yellow hoodie when Neil and Kevin picked him up from the airport. He waved openly to them from a distance, practically jogging across the last few yards. “Kevin Day!”

The two of them shook hands, but Jeremy used his grip to drag Kevin closer into a backslapping one-armed hugged. Kevin looked wide-eyed but not displeased by the gesture, though there was no softness in his spine. Neil felt the corner of his mouth quirk up at the sight.

“And – you go by Neil now, is that right?” Jeremy asked as he let Kevin go. At Neil’s nod, he smiled and offered his hand as he said, “Neil. It’s good to see you again.”

Because Neil hadn’t always been confined to the Nest on game nights, not even away games. He remembered vividly the few times he’d been allowed to watch the Ravens play – semi-finals or finals games, usually, because Tetsuji strongly believed him watching poor playing would be a bad influence. He remembered Jeremy talking to Kevin, receiving an offer from Riko, turning him down in a way so good-natured even Riko barely grumbled afterward.

He had family in California he didn’t want to leave, apparently. Not even for a shot with the best college Exy team in the country. Neil wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone like Jeremy in his life, and he equally wasn’t sure that he and his team were any kind of fit for Jean.

It had been Kevin’s suggestion. Neil had only encouraged Jean to agree to meet with Jeremy because he’d seen the Trojans on the court with him at the helm. He figured there had to be something behind the sunny personality to have gotten them so far.

“Congrats on your season,” Neil said, taking his proffered hand for a firm shake. The Trojans had decimated their opponents in the first third round game in the evens bracket. Then he jerked his head towards the doors. “Car’s this way.”

It was starting to feel like proper summer weather outside. Jeremy and Kevin chatted Exy on the way to the car, seemingly unbothered by Neil’s silence. Jeremy also made no mention of any of the more dangerous topics, which had to be intentional: there was no easy way to talk about the game without mentioning the Ravens. Especially not right now, with the team in disarray and the championship trophy firmly installed in the Trojans’ court.

Neil was the one to drive them back in Andrew’s car. It wasn’t as nice as the last, but Neil had plans for that which involved a generous cash donation from his extended family. Unfortunately, that required a little less scrutiny by law enforcement. It also required Andrew’s agreement, which would perhaps be more difficult to achieve.

They went directly to Abby’s, where Jean was still staying. Kevin would have kept him close, but Jean wasn’t a PSU athlete and had no intention of becoming one, so had no place in the Tower.

Neil was grateful for that. He and Jean were broken in the same ways, different from Kevin, and it was too difficult to look at him without feeling like nothing had changed.

Everything had changed. From a distance far greater than anything Riko would approve of, Neil was starting to see it in Jean too. That included the chill glance he spared Jeremy when they were introduced in Abby’s kitchen. There was no indication of the fact that Jean had bulled Jeremy into the floor three separate times the last time the Ravens had played the Trojans, nor that Jeremy had got past Jean an equal number of times to score.

They shook hands like it was their very first meeting. That gesture seemed to hit the limit of Jean’s courtesy though.

“Really?” he asked in French, his focus on Kevin. “This is what you consider suitable?”

Neil wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Jeremy’s smile got wider. He said in the same language, “Do you not agree with his assessment?”

When Kevin and Jean both stared at him, he shrugged. “I might be planning on going pro after I graduate, but I like my linguistics major.”

“Ah,” Kevin said. His ears looked slightly pink, but Jean still looked unimpressed.

“I don’t think that I am a suitable fit for your team,” he informed Jeremy in English, his tone sharp. He was always more interesting when he could be convinced to strike head on. Usually it took more needling that someone like Jeremy should have been capable of.

“Why don’t you come to California and find out?” Jeremy replied. It sounded like a dare, and he and Jean held gazes for a long moment. “And then we’ll see whether you’re suitable for us or not.”

The implication that Jean might not make the cut hung in the air between them. Kevin looked caught between being offended and unable to say to so someone he so admired. Jean’s disinterest was transforming into something else entirely.

“So you only _act_ nice,” Neil couldn’t resist commenting.

“I wouldn’t say ‘act’. But I am a pragmatist,” Jeremy replied. “I just save that for situations other than interviews. I guess you wouldn’t know about that.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” Neil agreed.

Jeremy looked at him for a long moment, grin still in place underneath shrewd eyes. “Are you looking for a change of pace as well? Because we might have a space for a striker of your calibre on the line.”

He wasn’t saying it to be kind – for all he was known for it, he was still a Class I captain whose aim was to win. Taking Jean was hardly charity, and offering Neil a place wasn’t, either. That was fine: neither of them trusted charity anyway.

“You can’t just poach Fox players,” Kevin protested, though it was fairly good-natured. He and Jean both watched Neil as well, waiting for his answer.

Neil had a choice. He’d already chosen.

“No thanks,” he said. “I’m staying.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m happy for you,” Renee said, right before she blocked Andrew’s punch with her forearm.

They circled again, each low and easy on the balls of their feet. Anyone else would have said that as an attempt at distraction, but from Renee the words were genuine. As far as she was concerned, that she had time to think about that just meant that Andrew wasn’t making her work hard enough tonight.

“I hope you aren’t expecting the same sentiment from me,” Andrew replied. Truthfully he didn’t much care about Renee’s relationships, though he considered Reynolds to be an odd fit and Moreau even more so. He’d observed Reynolds and her clumsy attempts at needling Moreau in French, and Moreau’s quiet watchfulness with both of them, and seen merely a multitude of ways that it could fuck up and very few where it wouldn’t.

Renee laughed, her voice husky with exertion. “That’s fine, Andrew. Watch your foot.”

He pulled himself back into alignment where his left foot had been drifting out and unevenly distributing his weight. Renee had been waiting for the adjustment – as soon as he was square, she hit him with a flurry of punches that forced him back a step.

“I’m pleased for both of you,” she continued, while Andrew resigned himself to staying on the back foot for now. Any attempt to regain ground was going to end up with him on the floor. “The two of you are good for each other. I’ve thought that for a long while.”

Andrew’s attempt to stop her talking by aiming a punch past her guard ended with her grabbing his wrist and throwing him over her hip. He landed flat on his back on the grungy carpet, most of his breath leaving him with the collision.

Renee’s face appeared in his range of vision. She was still smiling. “Sorry.”

When he didn’t acknowledge her, she dropped down to sit cross-legged at his side. “Is everything alright?”

He shot her a flat look, which made her smile grow. Then, a more serious light in her eyes, she said, “It’s been an interesting few weeks.”

Phil Higgins had called Andrew in person to pass on that everything he’d spent the last few months working on was about to go public. Neil had told him everything, or as close to it as he ever would, and what he hadn’t Andrew had managed to piece together.

Andrew had hung up on Higgins before he’d been able to do anything as stupid as apologise. Two days later the entire thing had gone public, and Riko had been arrested.

He’d gotten out on bail, of course. He might have preferred a cell to the firestorm of the media, though. With professional contracts scrapped and the support of his school stripped, the king of Ravens was now a sportsman in name only. With their captain gone along with most of their best players, the Ravens had suffered a close but humiliating loss to the Lions in their second third-round game.

The Foxes had beaten Binghamton and were looking likely to advance to the next death match with their current points total. Whether they would be facing off with the Ravens in the semi-finals – presuming they made it, which the rest of the team seemed sure about – looked increasingly uncertain.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed. _Interesting_. That was one word for it.

 

* * *

 

When Neil opened the door for Wymack, he already knew why he was there. The presence of Theodora Muldani at his back was the surprising part, and the part that made Neil put his arm across the door.

“Coach,” he said, though he was looking at Thea. “It’s not a great time.”

Kevin’s choice to vegetate in the morning with the local sports channel on in the background had backfired on him this morning. The leading news item had been Riko’s suicide.

He’d come into the bedroom and demanded of Neil, “Did you know this was going to happen?”

“Yes. And so did you,” Neil had replied. He’d received a message from Ichirou last night that had just said _it’s done_. He might have had a more direct warning, but Kevin had known that it was coming since before Christmas. If he’d chosen to ignore it since then, that was typical of Kevin and his own problem.

Kevin had gotten into bed and hadn’t moved since, but Neil wasn’t worried about him. He’d seen enough changes in Kevin over the last few weeks to know that he would be fine.

That didn’t make Thea’s presence a good thing, though. Neil heard rustling from behind him as Andrew moved towards the door, another stubborn sentinel.

“Nathaniel,” Thea said. She was cooler and more calculating than Kevin could ever hope to be, but Neil had trained with her on the court since he was a child and knew that underneath that was one of the most ferocious tempers of anyone he’d met. She was what Dan would have been as a Raven, warmth beaten from her and everything else amplified.

They’d never really gotten on very well. Neil was unsurprised when she continued, “Let me in or I’ll knock you over.”

“Kevin isn’t interested in talking to you right now,” Andrew said from over Neil’s shoulder, a gentle threat. “Go away, Muldani.”

“I came out here to talk to him and I’m not leaving until I do,” Thea replied, anger bubbling in her voice already. Her Raven-number pendant hung free from her shirt as though she’d been toying with it. She’d never cared much for Riko and never played under his captaincy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t perturbed by his sudden death after everything else that had come to light over the last few months.

“Kevin isn’t interested in talking to you right now,” Andrew repeated. He didn’t look at Thea like she was a real threat – Neil suspected if it weren’t for his own reluctance, Andrew would have let her go without complaint. Then again, he always had been an instigator of sorts.

“Thea, go through,” Wymack said, tiring of the stand off. “He’ll be in the bedroom. You two, move it.”

He stepped inside first, allowing Thea inside before he closed the door. She shot Andrew and Neil both a haughty look before disappearing down the hallway. Nicky came out a second later squawking, caught sight of the three of them standing in the main room, and then diverted to the kitchen with wide eyes and a pinched mouth.

Meanwhile, Wymack was looking at Neil. “What happened to ‘if we want to do something, it has to be on the court because that’s all he cares about’?”

“Stakes got raised,” Neil replied. Wymack was smart enough to have seen this coming, even without an explicit warning. He’d probably known even before Neil had.

He looked like he had a multitude of questions, but he seemed to recognise that Neil wouldn’t or couldn’t answer most of them. Instead he said, “Are you satisfied?”

That was a good question, and it had an easy answer. Neil smiled and felt for a second like his father’s son.

 

* * *

 

Nathaniel Wesninski twice had surprised Ichirou Moriyama, which was twice more than he ever permitted.

He should have known better. Like his father before him, he trusted Nathan as a valuable and effective tool, and Kengo had never had a single reason to doubt the Butcher’s loyalty. But some mixing of the blood between Wesninski and the Hatfords, a family known for being capricious, had meant Nathaniel was wilful and unpredictable.

The first time they’d met – the first time Nathaniel had surprised him with his warnings - Ichirou’s father had said once he’d left _that’s a dog you only trust when it’s wearing a choke chain and you are holding the leash._

Ichirou hadn’t quite believed him then, looking at the boy who was all too eager to put in his lot with far more powerful men than his brother over a sport. That slip had given Nathaniel the leverage to earn himself a second deal, one that he’d fulfilled his end of admirably.

Ichirou’s brother was dead, whatever reputation he’d had in the fraught world of professional sportspeople and celebrities in tatters around him. His grasping uncle was similarly shamed. Ichirou was adjusting himself to the title of Lord after effectively acting as such for the last several months, and his new wife and he would soon be extending the main branch of the family. The throne was a comfortable place to be seated.

But a rebellious child had reminded him of how easily a castle could be brought down. Nathaniel was a threat, and Ichirou couldn’t trust him. But he wore a choke chain: there were people he cared about. That was something that could be used against him far too easily, if someone was that way inclined.

Ichirou didn’t mean to be surprised a third time.


	48. epilogue: they don't own us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year later.

Andrew woke to the jolting of the mattress, tensing in a way that he couldn’t control. He made the same jerky grab he always made when he startled into consciousness, feeling for a weapon between the mattress and the wall.

Then clear thought filtered through. _You’re in Columbia. That’s Neil Wesninski. It’s the 27 th of January. There’s no knife. You don’t need it. You’re safe._

He’d been telling himself that last thing for a long time, and he still barely believed it most days. But that didn’t mean he’d stopped.

_27 th of January. _This year the Foxes had ridden their winning streak all the way through the first round of Spring Championships, including Thursday night’s home game, and the media was already whispering about an improvement on last year’s results. Playing at PSU meant it was easy to leave the others behind and drive up here for what was, essentially, an anniversary.

It’d been a long year. Neil, with his grocery list of PTSD symptoms and the same brittle but unbroken stubbornness, had taken an unsurprising amount of time to admit that he was struggling to bear up under the weight of everything. No one could last like that forever, though.

Andrew, who’d hit that point and shattered a long time ago, had been waiting for it. And he’d stayed right there, in a way that he never should have been able to, while Neil proceeded to start putting himself back together into some kind of patchwork creature of a man.

Neil was all stitches and scars now, but he was still alive and he was still here. They both were. That meant something. Neil liked to remind Andrew of that every time he thought Andrew might have forgotten.

Andrew levered himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the bedroom floor. His armbands he left in the bedside drawer – he’d relocated them from their usual position on top of the dresser when Neil had grabbed for them one night and frightened himself badly. For all he claimed to be unafraid of and unbothered by what he could do to people, Neil disproved himself sometimes.

The house was quiet and dim in the early morning light, which was barely enough to see by. It wasn’t a feat of deduction to find Neil: he’d curbed his running habit after numerous lectures from the others on the dangers of running in the dark, and he also had the bathroom light on.

Andrew had forced the shame of struggling out of Neil somewhere around the third month, which meant that he didn’t flinch when Andrew drew the shower curtain back. He was cross-legged on the tub floor right over the drain, the water falling straight onto his head. He was also still wearing exactly what he’d worn to bed last night, all of it now plastered to his skin.

“Neil,” Andrew said. “Really?”

“You can drop the exasperated act,” Neil rasped without opening his eyes. “It’s not like you didn’t know this was going to happen. That’s why you dragged me out here to start with.”

“Cute kidnapping reference,” Andrew replied, reaching in to turn the water from freezing to warm. Neil shuddered, though whether that was because of the change in temperature or a relic of his nightmares was impossible to tell.

He was right: that was exactly why Andrew had brought them out here. He’d watched Neil all week, tentative in a way he never was, how he’d caught his breath out on the court on Thursday night like his control was slipping, and known that Neil was walking the blade-fine edge of bad memories. Known that he was going to lose his footing.

Andrew had also known he wasn’t going to fall far. Stupider people might have called that faith, but they didn’t know Neil Wesninski.

“Just give me a minute,” Neil said, through his teeth. There was a hard pinch between his brows and his fingers were clenched so tightly on his knees that he was bound to bruise.

“Shall I count?”

“A _hypothetical_ minute,” Neil replied. Another shudder rolled through him, slow and all encompassing. The placement of Neil’s hands meant there were no real safe zones for Andrew to touch, so he waited until he saw a tentative pinking of Neil’s exposed skin before he turned the shower off. The cessation of noise made the bathroom seem very quiet in the instant afterward. Neil didn’t move an inch.

“Look at me,” Andrew said, low. There was no room for argument in his tone.

Neil opened his eyes, brilliantly blue against the shades of white and water in the harsh-lit bathroom. He said, “I’m always looking at you.”

He wasn’t wrong. Andrew felt Neil’s eyes on him more often than he liked, but there was nothing covetous in his expression. He dared and demanded more than Andrew had ever given anyone else permission to, but he knew what to do when he was told _no_.

“It’s been a year,” Neil said, blinking water from his eyelashes. “I’m tired of this.”

Andrew didn’t have a reply to that except harsh realism, and Neil didn’t want an answer anyway. He was stating the obvious, and it was echoed in his drawn, dark-shadowed face, but Neil had no desire or need for sympathy.

He wanted understanding, and Andrew could give him that. “There’ll be more years.”

When you’d stared death in the face, there was something vast and buoying in knowing just how long a human life was. Even Andrew understood that, with a series of delicate promises knitting themselves together in his mind. One that started with _we’ll still be here tomorrow._

Neil’s expression flickered and then resolved into something more his usual. His fingers flexed and released themselves, his right one touching Andrew’s where it curled around the lip of the tub. They weren’t shaking anymore.

“Am I getting out, or are you getting in?” he asked, with the faintest shadow of a smile.

Andrew answered that by leaving the room. It wasn’t long before Neil, dry and dressed, joined him in the kitchen and accepted the mug of coffee Andrew had poured for him. They went out to the porch so Andrew could smoke and Neil could shake off the very last of his fear in the crisp air.

It was still early morning quiet outside, the first rays of sun just barely stretching over the front lawn. That meant it was easy to hear the soft _thanks_ Neil pressed directly into Andrew’s hoodie at his shoulder, warm and easier than it had any right to be.

_We’ll still be here tomorrow._ That sounded like a promise, and they were good at keeping promises.

 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last time, thanks for reading! <33


End file.
